


One Red Thread

by irithyll



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Character Development, F/M, Horror, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Romance, canon? I hardly know her
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2019-10-16 07:18:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 70,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17545181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irithyll/pseuds/irithyll
Summary: Peanut butter and jelly, zombies and headshots, Chris and Jill...some things were just meant to be.A non-canonical retelling of the way things could have been from beginning to the end.





	1. A Fated Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “An invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, and circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle. But it will never break.” - ancient Chinese proverb

Few things were as cathartic to Chris Redfield as a long, hard weight lifting session. Though he had recently taken a couple weeks off the job to visit his younger sister at her university out of state, his alleged vacation hadn’t been particularly restful. Claire, being his younger sister and a starving college student, had taken advantage of both Chris and his wallet, though he couldn’t necessarily blame her. He could vividly recall going nights without eating when left to his own devices while on leave in the Air Force due to a gross misestimation of income after paying for both his own and Claire’s living expenses.

Though he would never confess such aloud, there were times in which he secretly envied his fellow airmen who had parents to reach out to for support. The close relationship that the Redfield siblings harbored was forced upon them by the death of their parents at a relatively young age. At the time, Chris had been pressed to simultaneously learn how to be both an older brother and father figure to Claire.

As a result, Claire held an incredible sense of reverence for her brother. He had managed the role extraordinarily well and she felt indebted to him for shaping her into the woman she ultimately became. To others, the resulting stress of his responsibilities manifested in the form of insubordination and rebellion, particularly when authority was concerned. Chris took no shit from anyone and wasn’t afraid to call things for what they were. This was something he continued to struggle with when regarding his current S.T.A.R.S. captain, but he had managed to keep _most_ of his distaste private, an accomplishment that his younger self never could have achieved.

With a grunt, Chris placed the curl bar back into place, almost regretting the muscle soreness that was sure to set in by morning. He leaned forward, allowing his forehead to rest against the firm pad of the preacher seat before him as he attempted to catch his breath. Given the way his shirt clung to his back, he knew he’d need a shower.

He padded to the showers quietly, exhaustion already beginning to set in. The heat of the water beating along the surface of his back was welcome, but his meditative moment was short-lived.

Joseph had burst into the bathroom, already halfway undressed. The sound of the shower running piqued his interest and he called out a greeting as he threw his discarded shirt into his locker. It had taken a while for Chris to grow accustomed to Joseph’s penchant for bathroom gossip despite their often naked states, but, after a year of being subjected to his behavior, it _finally_ no longer perturbed him.

“Welcome back to paradise, Redfield!” He greeted, stripping out of the rest of his casual wear to don his uniform. “I bet you’re _thrilled_ to be back.”

Chris snorted and flipped off the tap, shaking the water from his hair.

“Yeah, definitely can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be for the next 24 hours.” He deadpanned, fumbling for a towel.

The 24-hour shifts in their line of work were daunting, but Chris had grown to prefer the unconventional scheduling. Emergency calls at three in the morning were a hell of a lot easier to respond to when he didn’t have to leave his own bed and force himself to drive to the precinct.

A moment of silence fell between them as Chris toweled off, but Joseph quickly interrupted.

“You heard about the new recruit? She started right after you went on vacation.”

Chris paused for a moment, slightly caught off guard by the commentary. Before, he had half-listened to Joseph’s chatter about a rumored new hire, but never picked up on the fact that it was a woman. Vaguely, he remembered some mention about the candidate having former Army experience and an expertise in breaking and entering, but not much else.

Truth be told, based on the description, he hadn’t expected a woman. He cringed at the thought and could practically hear Claire chastising him for his prejudice in the name of feminism.

“Cool.” He tried to force enthusiasm in his voice. “She good?”

It was a pretty stupid question, he realized in retrospect. S.T.A.R.S. was meant for the elite.

Joseph shrugged as he slid on his vest.

“She’s kinda boring...super textbook, probably never broke a rule in her life.” He paused, reflecting on his experiences with her. “She’s nice though. Haven’t seen her do field work yet.”

Chris didn’t really care to listen.

“Guess we’ll see.”

He didn’t give it any further thought as he began to dress, psyching himself up for his return to the humdrum of routine. As he pulled on his shirt, he felt something pull in his shoulder, and he winced at the sensation.

Man, he hoped they’d have an uneventful night because he sure as hell could use a nap.

* * *

 In an unexpected turn of events, he eventually did give it a second thought...and then about a hundred more because, god _damn_ , Chris thought Jill might have been the hottest thing he had ever seen.

There was something about the way the low light of the basement highlighted her features, casting long shadows that accentuated her soft edges in all the right places. She was leaned over the edge of a pool table, dark locks tucked behind an ear with her brow furrowed in concentration as she stared down the arrangement of balls laid out before her. The thick, ribbed fabric of the pale blue, standard issue shirt she wore clung to her as if it had been tailored for her body alone, tucked into navy cargo pants that were equally flattering, providing just enough hint of long, toned muscle to pique his interest.

Her brow relaxed and she tilted her head to the side, looking up at Forest to pull her full lips into a sideways smirk.

“Sorry, Forest…”

There was a hint of something playful dancing behind her words and, with a definitive _clack_ , she struck the cue ball expertly, simultaneously sending the final three balls into pockets.

Jill laughed good-naturedly--a light, bubbly sound that made something shift in Chris’s chest. The sound of her voice had done enough to stir something low in the pit of his belly, something that smoldered so hotly that it was nearly suffocating.

Joseph sure as hell hadn’t mentioned any of _that_ about her. What the hell was wrong with him?

With a groan of disgust, Forest wrinkled his nose at her and sneered.

“Not my fault you’re a fuckin’ pool shark prodigy.”

With his ego clearly bruised, he crossed his arms over his chest and flicked his nose into the air.

“I’ll have you know that, before you came along, I was the best in the precinct, honey.”

Barry snorted at the remark from across the room, eyes fixed on the television as he remained posted in his usual spot on the couch. He allowed his focus to stray briefly to glance over at Chris and they cast one another an acknowledging nod.

“Very important detail there,” Chris spoke up as he stepped into the room, “ _Was_.”

He could never pass up an opportunity to dig at Forest and the moment had presented itself all to perfectly. The deep rumble in his voice had caught Jill’s attention and she turned towards him, allowing them both full surveillance of one another with she in her blues and he in his olive green.

Forest surely gave some snide retort, but it fell on deaf ears. When her pale eyes met his, Chris felt a his breath hitch in his throat.

No, there was no longer a “might have” about it--Jill _was_ the hottest thing he had ever seen. How the fuck did Joseph fail to mention _that_?

Chris coughed before stepping forward, offering his hand.

“Chris Redfield, sharpshooter.” He introduced himself, voice a little more gruff than usual.

Jill watched him, gaze hesitating on his face before moving to his hand in order to oblige him with her own.

“Jill Valentine, B&E.”

Chris raised his eyebrow curiously, but said nothing aloud. Instead, he simply nodded and gave her a warm, welcoming grin.

“Welcome to the team.”

His eyes were fixed on hers, but the trance was abruptly interrupted by a heavy-handed clap on the back from Forest.

“You forgot to mention your position as ‘first loser,’ since you’ll never beat the champion here.”

Forest pointed both thumbs towards himself and tossed his head to the side, flicking back his long hair in an exaggerated gesture. Chris held his tongue. Under any other circumstances, he would have openly protested Forest’s claim, but he couldn’t quite force himself to look away from the woman in front of him.

Despite being on the sidelines, Barry found the meeting between the two to be strange at best. As long as he had known Chris, he’d never seen him become intimidated by another person, let alone a woman. He resisted the urge to laugh to himself and shook his head, turning back towards the television.

He knew Chris had already fallen and he hoped it wouldn’t be detrimental for either party involved. Chris Redfield never half-assed anything and he could only assume the same principle applied in his relationships. Chris was a man fueled by passion and, if he believed in something, he devoted his entire self to it.

He hoped Jill Valentine was as tough as she attempted to seem.

Rising from the couch, Barry extended his arm upwards to stretch stiffened muscles.

“Well, Forest…” He spoke up, shifting the attention towards himself, “As honorary _loser,_ I do believe that makes you my food running partner tonight.”

It was a lighthearted comment and an unofficial rule the team had established long ago. The S.T.AR.S. were competitive in nature, always instigating challenges with one another. The proclaimed loser of the day was always responsible for the graveyard shift food run as the ultimate form of punishment.

Forest relented with a heavy sigh--after all, rules were rules.

“Yeah, fine. What do y’all want from Marguerite’s?”

Joseph, who had been inconspicuously tucked away in the corner, snapped up from his book, face lighting up at the mention of food.

“Aww yeah, _Marguerite’s_! I’ll write it down."

* * *

 Once the pair departed, Joseph settled back into his chair with his book, leaving both Chris and Jill to their own devices.

“So...are you from Raccoon?” Chris asked, instigating small talk.

He had stolen Barry’s spot on the couch and aimlessly flipped through the channels, not particularly interested in much of anything. In response to his question, Jill slipped into the seat beside him, and he felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest.

“No, I just moved here...for the job actually.” She paused for a moment, giving him a sheepish smile. “How about you?”

Chris felt his breath hitch in his throat. In their close proximity, he caught a hint of the faint perfume she wore, something subtle with just enough floral undertone to be distinctly feminine. The blue light from the tv screen played across her features, highlighting the soft surface of her skin and those pale eyes that he swore he would have jumped off the damn roof for if she had asked.

 _Like a goddamn teenager,_ he scolded himself, _Get it together, Redfield._

Regardless of his inner turmoil, he didn’t miss a beat.

“Nah. I’ve been here a few years though. It’s not too bad.”

He truly didn’t mind Raccoon City. The views of the mountains were nice and tourism brought in a decent enough bustle to keep things from being too boring. There was always something to do, always some joker committing some stupid crime to get involved in.

“It seems pretty quiet.” Jill commented offhandedly and Chris laughed.

“Trust me, the drama will pick up.”

He wasn’t a particularly superstitious guy, but, as if on cue, he heard the familiar footfalls of someone descending the stairs. The rhythmic, robotic crescendo was unmistakable and he tapped Jill on the knee.

“Captain.” He whispered.

Truth be told, he was halfway convinced that Wesker was some sort of android and it wouldn’t have surprised him if he had been programmed solely to spite him. Chris’s relationship with the Captain was tumultuous at best and their distaste for one another was no secret.

Just as he had predicted, Wesker whisked into the room, movement fluid and commanding.

“Alpha team.”

His speech was cold and sharp as always. He was strictly business all the time. In fact, Chris was pretty sure that Wesker’s developer had forgotten to install the “fun” program to his hard drive.

All three S.T.A.R.S. swiftly rose to attention.

“Another body was found. The RPD is as incompetent as ever. The public is getting riled up and there are rumors of civilians forming a vigilante justice group to search the area themselves.”

He let out an amused chuckle at the prospect of civilians attempting to take the case into their own hands, but his expression quickly became stoic once again.

“This is _unacceptable._ ”

He stepped forward to hand Joseph a thick file.

“Frost, meet Vickers upstairs to assist with his research. Compare this to previous cases and find the missing link. Redfield…”

He languidly shoved a thin folder towards Chris, looking Jill dead in the eye despite addressing Chris.

“Head to the Marble River in Cedar District with Valentine to investigate the scene.”

Just as quickly as he had entered, Wesker breezed his way out, leaving them all irritated and confused.

* * *

 Night had already settled in Raccoon City, cloaking everything on the rural roads with an eerie shadow. The Arklay Mountains laid just within the outskirts of the city and were largely uninhabited, making it the perfect destination for hikers to not only partake in their sport, but also get murdered by some deranged, B-horror inspired lunatic, it seemed. Chris had visited the area enough times to be as familiar of a dense, overgrown forest as one could be, though he hadn’t encountered any bodies during his previous hikes.

Needless to say, he was grateful that this body had washed up within the city limits. Navigating the mountain in the dark didn’t seem like the most thrilling thing to do.

“ _Another_ body?” Jill asked from the passenger seat as she flipped through the documents Wesker had provided.

Chris admittedly had not followed the news during his absence, so he wasn’t entirely sure of the current body count. All he knew was that it was too damn high.

“Yeah, something like...three bodies have shown up around the mountains.”

He squinted, trying to make out the nearby landmarks in the dim, yellow glow of the headlights.

“The RPD has been investigating, but they never really uncovered any leads. All the bored housewives and teenagers have theories that there’s an axe murderer on the loose, but...y’know.”

Jill laughed.

“Sprinting around the mountains with an axe? That’s some impressive stamina.”

If the fact that they would soon be faced with a corpse fazed her in any way, Jill gave no indication of it. She was as calm as could be and Chris found himself to be a little impressed. Joseph would have been going a thousand miles a minute, running off theories and attempting to solve the case before they had even arrived, whereas Brad would have simply brooded in the backseat, anxiety palpable.

What kind of experiences _had_ she endured? Joseph never mentioned previous police experience, but there had to have been something unique about her to persuade Irons to hire her.

Before he could conjecture further, the glimpse of flashing blue lights between the trees in the distance signaled that they had arrived at their destination.

* * *

 “The _hell_ is S.T.A.R.S. doing here?”

The officer who greeted them seemed less than impressed as he met Chris with a hard stare. Chris, too, seemed equally apathetic, not even bothering to respond to the man as he ducked beneath the fluorescent crime scene tape to study the scene.

Clearly, there was a lot of RPD history for Jill to study up on.

“Captain Wesker’s orders.” She offered lamely and the officer turned to her, studying her intently.

“Ah,” He said, eyes sweeping over the S.T.A.R.S. emblem emblazoned on her beret, “You’re the new one. Congrats.”

His statement didn’t seem congratulatory--in fact, it was rather deadpan.

“Yeah, she beat you out, Ryman.”

Chris didn’t look back as he headed through the small scattering of trees that led to the river. Jill mouthed the officer an apology before slipping beneath the tape and sprinting after her partner.

“You guys seem close.” She jested, falling into step beside him.

Chris smiled.

“There’s this stupid rivalry thing between us--Ryman, Speyer, and myself. Don’t listen to their bullshit though.” He winked, “ _I’m_ the best shot.”

Jill felt something flutter in her chest at his remark.

The body was laid out on a sheet of white plastic beside the riverbed, surrounded by fluorescent lamps that emphasized the gore with their bright lighting. The woman was laid on her back, dressed in tatters of what appeared to have once been athletic gear, a hiking boot still present on her...one foot that remained.

She had been obviously mutilated. Her grey skin was bloated from its exposure to the river and marred by jagged, deep lacerations. Flesh had been ripped from bone, sinews of muscle and blood vessels dangling freely where the ends of her limbs had been severed.

Bile rose in Jill’s throat, but she forced herself to swallow it, wincing as she felt it burn on the way back down.

“Probably a bear or some shit.” Kevin spoke up from behind her. “Doesn’t take S.T.A.R.S. to solve this mystery.”

If only they had known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter revised 2 May 2019.
> 
> Thanks for reading! This will be a long-winded piece centered around Chris and Jill's partnership along the duration of their lives. The Mansion Incident will still occur, but not quite in line with the typical canon, and all that follows will be a rework of the entire series with some original arcs thrown in. Please look forward to plenty of zombies, a little bit of the ocean, a lot of PTSD, and a great deal of steamy romance at likely inappropriate times in due time...if it suits your fancy. :)


	2. Of Axe Murderers and Zombie Dogs

Curled up in the passenger seat of the cruiser, Jill let out a soft yawn. The witching hour had already come and she felt a telltale heaviness tug at her eyelids. Admittedly, she felt guilty for dozing off while Chris drove back to the precinct and she made multiple efforts to shake herself awake. Chris laughed as he caught a glimpse of her wrinkling her nose and rapidly blinking as if she believed the action would somehow dispel the lull of sleep.

"It's alright, you know."

He truthfully didn't mind. The combination of adrenaline and caffeine did wonders to keep him awake. A small, disgruntled sound rumbled in her throat as she abruptly sat up straight, shaking her head.

"Come on, Chris. I can't set the reputation of being a shitty partner this early in the game."

 _Partner_. Chris played the word over in his mind a few times and he decided that he liked the idea. That's what they were for the time being, right? Partners for this very short-lived case, but there were sure to be more in the future.

"Hey, no judgment here."

They had made it back within the city district, much to her relief. She looked over at Chris, whose profile was bathed in a soft red hue from the glow of the nearby traffic light. Jill could admit that he was extraordinarily handsome with dark eyes, that deep voice, and a light peppering of a swiftly forming five o'clock shadow. It also helped that he filled out his uniform well, and the strong cut of his jaw and the breadth of his shoulders hinted that he was probably easy on the eyes even without the uniform, too.

Jill froze mid-thought and mentally berated herself. She knew that there was no place for this in the workplace, especially considering she was the newbie. Hell, for all she knew, he was already taken. She was never the type of woman to mix pleasure and work. Why was she so interested in Chris Redfield?

"Does your family live in Raccoon too?"

She was just trying to make small talk, she told herself. She certainly wasn't fishing for his marital status.

"Nah. My sister is studying a little ways out." He shot her a quick look before diverting his attention back to the road. "How about you?"

"Nope."

Jill left it at that. Family was a bit of a sore subject on her part, as it was something that she lacked these days. Jill was the daughter of an absentee mother and her father had been incarcerated as a result of his questionable morals that had driven him to pursue a life of crime. It was something she wasn't proud to confess and she assumed that her colleagues wouldn't be too impressed to know her father was perhaps one of the most reputable criminals of the century.

"Well, S.T.A.R.S. has a way of keeping you busy." Chris reassured as they pulled into the station's parking lot. "We're all married to the job. Not sure if that detail was included in the application."

* * *

Joseph scrambled out of his seat as ungracefully as possible when the pair entered the room, his chair tipping onto the linoleum floor. His palms were pressed against his desktop and he leaned forward, mouth forming an 'o' as he prepared to assault Chris with a thousand and ten questions, but Chris held up his hand, effectively cutting him off.

"Young-ish woman, probably a hiker. Couldn't make out most of her face. Been in the river a while. Mutilated."

Brad's eyes widened, and he shot a look at Joseph. "Like...with an axe?"

Joseph gasped, adjusting the scarlet bandana on his head in anticipation, and echoed, "Yeah, was it an axe?!"

Jill held in a laugh and Chris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"No, probably just some wild animals. Could've been post-mortem."

Wesker had ducked into the room briefly when he heard their arrival, and was leaned up against the opposing wall, arms crossed against his chest. The corner of his mouth twitched, almost as if tempted to pull into a smirk, but he remained as stoic as ever.

"How interesting." Wesker mused aloud, and slipped out of the room as quickly as he had entered it.

Chris gave no reaction to Wesker's commentary. He had realized the guy was weird as fuck a long time ago, and chalked his bizarre social skills up to having been a homeschooled only child or some shit. Joseph, on the other hand, scoffed as he lifted his chair, planting himself back into it.

"Might've been captain. He probably eats people."

Forest snickered, and Barry shook his head, but the small, amused smile on his face did not go unnoticed.

"Speaking of food, I put your orders in the fridge."

Barry gestured towards the small kitchenette across the room, and Jill felt her stomach turn at the thought of the sandwich she ordered. The image of the hiker briefly flashed through her mind, exposed viscera on full display. She'd seen her share of gunshots and burns during her relatively peaceful time in the Army, but nothing quite like that.

Mentally, she made a note to pass on any invites to the Arklay Mountains.

"Glad we wasted our time on all this research." Brad practically pouted.

"I'm heading to bed." With little hesitation, he gave the group a farewell wave, heading off towards the shared barracks.

Forest leaned back in his chair, resting his heels on the edge of his desk.

"Sorry, Frost. I don't think we have a serial killer on the loose in Raccoon City, just a dangerous mountain and dumbass tourists."

Barry clarified, presumably for Jill.

"There have been a few bodies discovered around the mountains over the last couple of months, but no signs of foul play have been found. It all looks like unfortunate accidents. It's a big attraction for hikers, but the terrain is probably tougher than some of the novices anticipate."

He paused, trying to recount the deaths in his head.

"One had his throat slit, but it was a pretty clean cut and ruled a suicide after some digging was done into his personal life. Another was blunt force trauma, but he was found at the bottom of a steep edge and most likely fell. The most recent one was found deep in the woods, probably died from exposure. It doesn't seem like we have rabid animals roaming the mountainside. Chances are, this is just another sad accident."

It made sense to her. Jill wasn't sold on the theory of a superhuman axe murderer roaming the mountainside, and she believed that the police force was capable, despite Wesker's criticism. Still, it didn't keep the image of the poor, mangled woman out of her mind.

That night, she slept fitfully, often startling herself awake. She assumed she had been dreaming, but couldn't recall the presumed nightmares. Jill wrote it off as a result of an empty stomach, the anxiety of a new job, and sleeping on a god awful bunk bed beneath Forest, who she figured could use a pulmonary consult for sleep apnea, given his intermittent snoring.

Barry was a light sleeper, both a blessing and a curse that he had acquired with fatherhood. The soft creaking of the mattress as Jill tossed and turned throughout the night worried him. She could have simply been a victim of chronic insomnia, sure, but he wondered if some of her cool demeanor was simply a facade.

It wasn't his place to worry, but he thought of Moira and Polly, his own grade school daughters who were still naive to the harsh realities of the world. Barry would have wanted someone to watch out for them, and he figured Jill's father would want the same for his own daughter.

* * *

The loud, piercing sound of the gunshot echoed through the room, and Forest gave a low whistle of approval.

"Not bad at  _all_." He looked down at the pistol in hand, tracing his fingertip across the bluish slide. "When do I get mine?"

Chris looked over the handwritten note that was dispensed with the gun. Joseph Kendo, the local gun shop owner, had apparently developed the customized 92F specifically for S.T.A.R.S. at the request of Chief Irons. Though it was still a prototype, he had referred to it as the "Samurai Edge," with only a few dispensed to a select handful of S.T.A.R.S.

Jill rolled her eyes at the name, though she had to admit that she was impressed with the weight of it. It was easy to handle, and its specs seemed to be the result of a lot of careful thought with S.T.A.R.S. specifically in mind.

Taking stance within her own respective booth, she fired her own Samurai Edge for the first time. She struck the innermost ring of the target, in the general vicinity of the center. Chris, naturally, had hit the very center dead on, with Forest only a couple of centimeters off.

Nonetheless, they were complimentary of her accuracy, and Jill herself was pleased with the performance of the pistol.

"I like it." She finally commented, running her thumb over the light blue S.T.A.R.S. logo that had been etched into the grip. "Though I hope I don't have to use it on any axe murderers any time soon."

Joseph clicked his tongue, a little riled by the comment.

"You know, I read about another body in the  _Raccoon Times_  this morning. It was eaten just like the last one!"

He threw his arms up in the air, frustrated. "Fine, maybe I was wrong about the axe murderer part...it's clearly a  _cannibal_  axe murderer."

Forest placed a hand on his teammate's shoulder.

"Damn, Frost...you're like a modern day Sherlock Holmes."

* * *

Jill found herself met with an angry mob outside of the station upon her arrival to work. Civilians were gathered outside the entryway as a blonde-haired woman in a suit stood on the staircase before a camera, speaking animatedly into a microphone. She vaguely recognized her as a local news anchor, but couldn't place the name or station she worked for. Despite her career, she wasn't one to follow the news media.

From the parking lot, she observed the scene, not particularly elated about the idea of drawing their attention. A couple of officers exited the front of the building, waving their hands and pointing to the sidewalk. Jill recognized one as Kevin Ryman, though the wider, dark-haired man beside him was a new face for her.

"Nothing like a little drama in the morning."

Chris spoke up from behind her. "Looks like they found another one."

"Kind of strange, isn't it?" Jill asked, turning to face him.

He instantly offered her a styrofoam to-go cup of coffee, which she happily obliged. Chris seemed to know how to read her mind and had a penchant for being in the right place at the right time.

He shrugged, taking a healthy swig of his own cup as he watched the scene play out in front of the station.

"It's summertime, Jill. Animals are thriving. Maybe all the toxins in the water supply from a few months back gave them rabies or something."

Jill wasn't sure if rabies worked that way, but she accepted his impromptu hypothesis, and felt a little more at ease. Chris seemed to have that effect on her. His laidback nature balanced out the internal anxiety that she found herself battling often these days, and she made a conscious effort to be around him as much as she could.

 _For the anxiety, of course_. She told herself, watching the long, lean muscle of his forearm flex as he gave Ryman a wave. Ryman glared back at him, and Chris grinned wolfishly, placing his palm flat against Jill's lower back. She felt her heart rate increase, and, even through her uniform, she could feel the heat emanating from his skin.

"Come on, we'll go in through the back."

As they passed through, Chris noted Lieutenant Marvin Branagh sitting with a clearly distressed civilian. Branagh was leaned in close, giving the man his full attention in the calm, professional way he typically did. Chris respected the guy, as did most of the RPD.

"--I'm telling you, officer...they were dogs, but...dead...I saw 'em!"

Chris froze as he caught the tail end of the man's remark, and he nudged Jill softly. He nodded towards the guy, and she watched him from her periphery.

"They had their bones stickin' out and they were all mangy and frothing at the mouth!"

Branagh made eye contact with Chris and nodded, acknowledging him. Chris picked up on the exasperated look in his eye, and he smiled apologetically.

"From cannibal axe murderers to zombie dogs." Chris laughed as he casually slipped his hand into Jill's, encouraging her to follow. "The whole town's gone crazy."

Jill's fingers instinctively wrapped around his palm. She wondered if he intended the action, or if it was something he would have done with anyone in the given situation. Regardless, she found herself relishing in it a little. When was the last time a guy as handsome as Chris had held her hand?

 _Probably never_ , she thought.

As usual, Joseph instantly sprang out of his seat upon their entry into the S.T.A.R.S. HQ. "Chris, can you believe this shit?" Immediately, he shoved the front page of the  _Raccoon Times_  into his hands, headline nearly covering a quarter of the page:  **Irons to Dispatch S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team to Mountains to Investigate Rabid Monster Reports**

"Rabid monsters, huh?" Chris seemed unaffected by the statement. Jill idly wondered if she was in a strange dream.

"Why Bravo? Why not  _us_?" The envy in Joseph's voice was palpable.

Forest wasted no time in chiming in, "Probably because Irons doesn't wanna waste precious Alpha resources on some hungry coyotes and dumbass hikers."

Joseph pointed to everyone in the room, one by one, before turning his own finger to himself.

"Just remember that, when Bravo finally catches my cannibal axe murderer,  _I_  figured it out first!"


	3. The Survival Horror Begins

Alpha team maintained an almost oppressive silence from within the helicopter, each member hypervigilant as they scanned the woods below, unsure of what to anticipate. All were shocked by the sudden loss of contact with Bravo team. Although he had nothing to base the instinct on, something in Chris's gut told him that this would not be a search and rescue mission.

"Hey." His voice was particularly gruff, cut by the wind. "Over here."

He positioned the spotlight to a barely perceptible clearing in the trees, revealing another aircraft. Though he couldn't tell if it was one of their own, he assumed the worst. It was a particularly strange place to land, and Chris knew Bravo's pilot was more than capable of the landing.

They landed nearby within a wider clearing. Vickers remained in the pilot bay and Chris met the rest of the crew outside. A thin layer of fog enveloped the forest, clinging low to the ground and further obscuring the tall grass that lay before them. The forest was strangely silent, lacking even the chirping of insects to signify a sign of life. Chris looked down at Jill, whose mouth was set in a grim line as she stared blankly into the darkness from between the trees.

"Alpha team." Wesker addressed, drawing his pistol from its holster. "As one."

They worked their way into the thicket of trees, guns drawn, slowly scanning the areas within the fluorescent beams of their flashlights. Chris took point beside Wesker, creeping slowly towards the direction of the downed chopper. He could feel sweat forming on the back of his neck, hairs standing on end as the cool air of the forest caused goosebumps to rise on his skin.

A low growl pierced the silence, and the group halted.

"Did you guys…"

Joseph's words were cut short by the rapid, rhythmic sound of paws hitting the ground in a powerful sprint. It was fucking  _loud_ , and Chris couldn't tell exactly how many there were, but it sounded like too fucking many as far as he was concerned. He flitted the beam of his flashlight through the trees quickly, looking for any sign of movement.

Joseph's blood-curdling scream came first, followed by vicious growling and barking. Jill, who had been in step with Joseph, fired first, rapidly pulling the trigger as she unloaded into the beasts that had mounted him on the ground, ripping through both flesh and uniform with ease. A warm spray of blood splattered across her face, but whether it came from Joseph or the creatures, she wasn't sure. Her eyes widened, and she frantically fired between the four creatures until the telltale click of an empty magazine inevitably came.

At first glance, they were Dobermans...or, rather,  _undead_  Dobermans. Chris couldn't believe his fucking eyes. Fur had been torn away in patches to expose muscle and bone, an eye dangling freely from its socket on one that he happened to catch a glimpse of in the light. One had fallen, spasming on the ground, and another turned its attention towards Jill.

With a single shot, Chris's bullet pierced clean through its skull, pieces of bone and brain matter flying through the air. The monster collapsed to the ground, but the other three-four?-appeared unconcerned, continuing their feast.

A series of howls came from the distance, and Chris quickly grabbed hold of Jill's wrist.

"It's too late for him, Jill. Come on!"

They bolted through the woods, boots hitting the ground heavily. His lungs felt like they were on fire and he tightened his grip on Jill's arm, her skin slick with sweat beneath his gloved palm. He had no idea where the hell they were in relation to the main road, though it didn't necessarily matter. His mind was running a thousand miles a minute, body long having shifted into complete fight-or-flight mode. Survival was the only thing that mattered. He didn't give the rest of the team a thought.

As they came over a hill, Chris noted a mansion in the distance. There was no time to question its presence or survey the area, not with the loud padding of the creatures in tow. It was shelter, and that's all he needed to convince him.

"Come on, Jill. We can make it!" His breathing was ragged, voice interrupted by huffs as he managed to grit out the encouragement.

He sure as hell hoped it was unlocked.

Chris all but barreled into the heavy front door, roughly thrusting it open so hard that it swung back and forth on its hinges. With more roughness than intended, he grabbed Jill by the waist, shoving her through the entryway, and she collided with the door before tripping forward, landing on the hard floor.

He slammed the door shut behind them, the banging of its closure punctuated by a yelp as one of the dogs dived into it head first.

Leaning forward, he placed his hands on his knees, taking in long, ragged breaths as sweat dripped from his face and onto the polished floor beneath him. He closed his eyes tightly, the stitch in his side nearly unbearable, and coughed in an attempt to alleviate it.

Jill was quiet, her own chest heaving as she remained on the floor, legs splayed out in front of her as she rested her weight back on her arms. Her attention remained on the door as it rattled, one of the dogs thrusting its weight against it. With shaking hands, she attempted to reload her gun, but the dog seemed to have given up.

 _Or just found another victim_ , she morbidly thought.

Chris relaxed and slowly approached Jill, expression warm and concerned.

"Are you alright?" He asked, dropping to his knees before her. He placed his hands on his shoulders, dark eyes repeatedly roaming over her, evaluating her for any signs of physical trauma.

"I'm alright." She spoke softly, forcing a smile.

Chris felt a wave of relief wash over him, and he cupped the side of her face with his palm, wiping away the smear of blood that marred the smooth flesh of her cheek.

"Fucking  _zombie_   _dogs_." He spat incredulously, and the two shared a brief moment of awkward forced laughter.

The sound of a gunshot reverberated through the main hall, and they both turned their attention towards its origin. A single door stood on the opposite wall with no indication of what may lie behind it.

"Come on." Chris rose, offering Jill a hand.

He pulled her up with ease and readied his firearm. "Just stay close."

The dining hall was empty. A long, immaculately polished table sat in the middle of the room, adorned with several candelabras that appeared to have been freshly lit, given the length of the candles. A grandfather clock sat against a wall, ticking loudly enough to interrupt Chris's train of thought as he took in the gaudy, golden frames that adorned the walls.

At the end of the table, the fireplace was lit, flames crackling healthily. An ornate emblem was displayed above the mantle, though he couldn't make out the design on its surface from the distance. His boots squeaked against the freshly waxed floor as he approached the opposite end of the room.

A pool of blood glistened in the firelight, sweeping towards another lone door. Chris knelt down on one knee for closer inspection. It was still damp.

He stood and looked over his shoulder at Jill, who nodded in understanding. Slowly, he turned the knob, pulling open the door as stealthily as possible. Naturally, it creaked on its hinges, and he winced as he pulled it open fully, now with haste.

They were greeted by the back of a man as he knelt over a body on the floor. Jill stepped forward, calling out, but her words quickly turned into a gasp of horror as he turned towards them.

Whoever it was, they certainly weren't human any longer. The first thing Chris noticed were its eyes, clouded and white, offering absolutely no sign of life. Its flesh was grey and  _rotting_ , falling off the hollowed cheeks of its face as though it were crumbling with each movement of its jaw. Crimson stained the lower half of its face, freely dripping down its chin and jaw, staining its shirt.

The body on the floor convulsed in a pool of blood, throat ripped open in an animalistic way.

The creature let out a low groan. Bones cracked as it rose to its feet and it turned towards the pair at a nearly glacial pace. Suddenly, it dived forward, arms suspended in front of it as it reached out for Jill, mouth wide to expose yellowed teeth and the chunks of flesh that remained plastered to its tongue.

Chris fired, and the creature's head split open as it fell back against the rug with a loud thud.

"Fuck!" Chris quickly dropped to the floor beside the body, recognizing the man through the gore. It was Kenneth Sullivan, Bravo team's own pointman.

"Shit!"

He pressed his hands to his colleague's throat, applying pressure in a futile attempt to control the bleeding. Kenneth's eyes fluttered open and shut as he gurgled, blood rapidly filling his airway. Quivering, his hand rose just slightly, fingertips barely grazing against Chris's hand.

And then he went limp, eyes rolling back in his head, chest ceasing to rise.

"This is so fucked."

Chris looked over at the zombie crumpled against the floor and then back at Kenneth. He let out an exasperated sigh and gingerly reached forward, drawing Kenneth's eyelids closed. If only he had reacted sooner, then maybe...

Jill placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a careful squeeze.

"We have to get out of here." She spoke calmly, redirecting him to the severity of the situation. 

 _She's still alive_ , Chris reminded himself.  _What of the others? The rest of Bravo?_ At the very least, he was going to make damn sure she made it out in one piece.

Chris rested his hand against hers, his wide palm enveloping it with ease. "Yeah, I know."

They returned to the foyer and, with the initial shock having worn off, Chris began to take in his surroundings. The room was immaculate, floor polished to perfection with not a single speck of dust in sight. A red rug ran up the staircase at the center of the room, each side enveloped by a series of pillars that supported the lofted area above. A small corridor ran behind the staircase with two sets of doors opposite the dining hall.

Chris rounded the staircase to find an iron-barred door. It was locked with two octagonal indentations on either door hinting at the need for some sort of key. Gripping one of the bars, Chris attempted to give the door a rough shake, but it remained sturdy.  _So much for that._

He returned to the foyer to find Jill at the landing of the staircase as she inspected the painting that spanned over the door before her, its surface portraying figures encircling a grave.

"This is really fucking weird." Chris commented, heading back down the staircase.

The glistening of metal out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he headed back to the door leading to the dining room. A handgun lay on the floor, one that Chris recognized in an instant-Barry's Samurai Edge prototype, fully loaded with magazine still intact.

How had he missed this?

"Barry?!" He yelled out, and Jill came bounding down the stairs. She, too, recognized the pistol Chris held, and she instinctively placed a hand on her own.

"Let's find him and get the hell out of here." It wasn't really a suggestion on Jill's part. Chris knew it was the right thing to do, as badly as he wanted to get the fuck out of the place.

 _Welcome to survival horror, Redfield_. He bitterly thought to himself.  _Let's hope all those Romero movies pay off._


	4. Betrayal

****Romero had it wrong. Zombies could be fast fuckers. Zombies could have _claws_. Zombies could do a lot of shit that Chris never would have fucking imagined, especially now as this nightmare held him down, gnashing its yellow teeth in his face. Chris hissed as its claws dug into his shoulders, his hands braced against its jaw to keep its disgusting face as far from his own as possible.

He wondered how the hell he would get himself out of this predicament. The creature on top of him practically roared, the reddened flesh of its face cracking as it wildly snapped at him, bathing his skin with a cloud of putrid steam. Its eyes were frosted white, opaque with absolutely no sign of life, wide and wild as it fought desperately to break from Chris's hold.

He wondered what happened when a zombie bit you. Was it a guarantee that you'd join their fucked up, undead army? Did it happen as you were living or once you died? Are you still aware? Are souls even a thing?

It was a pretty inopportune moment to have an existential crisis.

His shoulders were really fucking starting to hurt. Chris winced as it curled its fingers to dig its deep nails further into his flesh, feeling his own hot blood drip down his back. Sweat rolled down the side of his face, and, with a sudden surge of energy, he gripped the monster's face, twisting it to crack its neck with an audible pop.

It let out a screech, head turned to the side at an unnatural angle, and continued to chomp at the air as it pinned him to the ground. Chris groaned. He had forgotten he was dealing with the living dead that had miraculously risen again from a second death.

A set of footsteps lightly treading up the staircase was his saving grace. He had learned quickly that zombies didn't necessarily climb stairs, but rather hobbled and stomped unceremoniously up the incline. Chris could only pray that it was one of his own and not some errant stranger masquerading around the house of horror.

_Like the Arklay axe murderer._

Joseph would roll in his grave and probably reanimate just to rub it in his face.

“Chris!”

Jill bounded around the corner from the top of the stairs, panic written all over her face. Her pistol was drawn, but the angle proved difficult. From her vantage point, Chris would take collateral damage. She came close, kneeling down beside him.

“Oh, hey, Jill.” It came as nonchalantly as if she were interrupting him in the middle of paperwork. “Don't mind me, just wrestling with my old pal here, resident evil himself.”

And then he was met with a shower of bone and brain matter as Jill shoved her pistol into the creature's mouth, blowing out the back of its skull with one pull of the trigger. The creature went limp above him, its vice grip finally having relented. With a rough shove, he pushed the Crimson Head off of him, and it rolled onto the hardwood floor in a crumpled heap.

Chris sat up and hissed as he placed one hand to a wounded shoulder. He watched Jill's light eyes widen as she leaned forward, gingerly placing her fingertips to the long tears in his tactical vest where flesh was torn, bright red blood welled at the surface. Her face fell, mouth pulled into a grim line, and she pulled back carefully.

"Holy hell, Chris...what was that?”

He shrugged, looking down at the remains of the monster beside him. “I guess they get two lives.” He paused, rethinking his word choice. “Un-lives.”

Was he deranged, or was his dark humor some sort of subconscious coping mechanism? He wasn't sure.

Jill stood first, offering him a hand. She braced herself as he took it, assisting in hoisting him off the ground. “I saw a room full of medical supplies just down the staircase. We should probably get you fixed up.”

Chris didn't argue, but he certainly gave the motherfucker on the ground one final curb stomp to what was left of his head, just for good measure.

* * *

 The first thing Jill noticed was that she was right--Chris _did_ look just as good without his uniform, if not better. The way the sleek muscle of his body flexed and rippled beneath his skin as he peeled off his shirt was fascinating, and she felt the urge to run her fingertips along each and every groove of the hard ridges of his chest.

The lacerations that marred his skin forcefully ripped her from her reverie nearly as quickly as her daydream had begun. She began to rifle through the bottles on the shelves for antiseptic. Her medical training was laughable in comparison to Rebecca's, but she had a decent enough grasp on first aid to stop a bleed, at the very least. 

In the soft light of the makeshift infirmary, Chris watched her as he sat on the edge of the cot nearby. She was perched up on her tiptoes, carefully reaching for a bottle on the uppermost shelf. Her silhouette was profoundly feminine, narrow and curved in all the right places, and he appreciated the view. Jill Valentine had just blown the brains out of some super zombie to save his life, as evidenced by the splatters of blood that were littered across her chest. Something about that made him feel strangely giddy.

Jill was leaned in close now, inspecting the damage that had been done. She grimaced as she opened a pack of gauze, liberally saturating the pads with the antiseptic she had found. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two, both of their minds racing with a thousand ways to ask the same question-- _are you infected now?_

“Maybe traveling separately wasn’t the best idea.”

Chris hated the way regret sounded in her voice. It wasn’t her fault. No one would have predicted that this would happen. The Aklay axe murderer sounded a whole lot more plausible than goddamn zombies. Infected or not, there was no way in hell that Chris Redfield would turn and let Jill feel somehow responsible for it.

“It was the logical thing to do. We need to cover as much ground as we can as quickly as possible. Neither of us did anything wrong.”

Jill had been blotting at his wounds with the damp gauze, but paused as he spoke. She said nothing as she resumed. “Barry is still alive. He left a note.”

Chris let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding. “What did it say?”

“He left some supplies and is planning to finish investigating the area to search for survivors. We’ll rendezvous in the main lobby at dawn.”

Chris wasn’t particularly surprised. Barry had always been an honorable man. Leaving a teammate behind, zombie apocalypse or not, was simply unacceptable.

Chris studied her face as she worked, watching her expression change in tune with the severity of each wound. Her eyes would narrow just slightly when it was particularly bad, lips pulling into an apologetic pout right before she applied pressure. A small smile would tug at the corner of her lip once she was finished, satisfied with her improvised care.

She was cute.

“Jill?” His voice was hoarse, and she made a quiet sound in her throat to acknowledge him. “Thanks for saving my life.”

Jill smiled brightly, all perfect white teeth with a twinkle in those big blue eyes that made him want to kill every damn zombie in that weird ass mansion.

“Don’t mention it. That’s what partners are for.”

* * *

 Jill solemnly stood beside Chris on the terrace as he mourned. Forest had not made it. They had found him collapsed in a chair outside, body half devoured by crows. The soft tissues of his face had been cleaned away, layers of muscle and bone exposed. Truth be told, Jill wasn’t entirely sure that she would have recognized him were he not in uniform.

She turned away from the gruesome scene as Chris knelt beside his fallen comrade. He placed a hand on Forest’s knee, his head hung low as he said his belated goodbye. Jill studied the vines that had started to claim the sides of the building as she absentmindedly scuffed the toe of her boot against the tile beneath her in an attempt to keep herself busy. The warm wind of the summer night was a welcome change from the stuffy, rotten air in the mansion.

The view of the glittering of stars against the impossibly dark sky didn't seem very apocalyptic. Regardless, she enjoyed the scenery for what it was worth. _It might be the last time._

The moment of silence came to an abrupt end with the telltale agonizing groan of the dead rising to life. Jill whipped around just in time to witness Forest tumbling back into the chair once again with Chris standing above him, pistol pressed to the grey flesh of the former marksman's forehead.

“I had a feeling that this is wouldn't be a search and rescue mission.” Chris's voice was barely above a whisper. 

Jill came behind him, arms encircling his waist. She pressed her cheek to his back and pulled him against her as firmly as she could manage. Chris's hand came to rest on hers, right above his belt, and he let his eyes slip shut, reveling in the warm feel of Jill and her softness and the fact that, if nothing else, _she_ was alive.

“We're going to make it out of here, Chris.”

And Chris believed her because she was Jill fucking Valentine, the woman who didn't think twice about blowing out some bastard's brains to save his life, and together, they made one hell of a team.

* * *

There was nothing quite like spending hours inside some dusty old mansion dodging the walking dead and solving stupid puzzles to finally make it outside, only to discover an even more decrepit old cabin full of huge ass spiders. If zombie dogs seemed unbelievable before, Chris was in for a rude awakening once he finished securing the grounds outside. Jill wrinkled her nose in disgust as she pumped the shotgun, blowing the final spider off the wall.

She watched it fall, belly up onto the ground, its legs curled in on themselves. With the tip of her boot, she gave it an experimental prod, and was satisfied to find that it did, in fact, seem to be dead. Jill was able to find herself at ease then as she wandered around the cluttered bar. There was little of interest.

The jiggling of someone attempting the doorknob caught her attention, and she ducked behind the bar. Heavy footsteps sounded as someone entered the room, a sound far different than the careful steps Chris often took. She held her breath for a moment, looking down at the shotgun in her hands. At a distance, she was at a disadvantage.

The footsteps drew closer, and she steeled herself, ready to retaliate as soon as the opportunity arose. The intruder seemed to be walking in a circle, but did not approach her. Instead, they stopped, and Jill could make out the static of feedback from a radio.

“Negative. None of the S.T.A.R.S. are here.” 

She recognized it as Barry, but her instinct urged her to remain in hiding.

“Yes.” He was speaking to someone through an earpiece, and though she could hear faint noise coming from the device, she was unable to determine whether they were male or female.

"Yes, we will finish the rest.” A pause. “Are you kidding? S.T.A.R.S. doesn’t stand a chance. Many are dead already.”

Jill felt her heart skip a beat. Her grip on the shotgun tightened, knuckles turning white with the force. What exactly was she overhearing?

“Affirmative." 

Barry left, and Jill felt the urge to vomit as a wave of nausea hit her. Though she wasn’t sure of the details of the conversation, she had heard more than enough to know that the monsters weren’t the only threat to their lives at this point. As many times as she played it over in her head, she couldn’t force herself to comprehend it. _Why?_

Chris was still outside and could run into Barry at any moment. There was no telling what he was planning to do. 

She bolted through the door, sprinting through the cabin as quickly as she could. Stealth be damned, she wasn’t going to let anything happen to Chris. They’d come too far to be gunned down by one of their own. As she threw open the front door, she was met with both Chris and Barry, who shot her a bewildered look.

“Jill?” Barry was an impressive actor. The concern on his face almost seemed genuine, and Chris stepped forward, resting a hand on Jill’s shoulder. “Jill? Are you alright?”

She studied the two. No weapons were drawn and no signs of injury or even an argument between them existed. Barry had not laid a finger on Chris as far as she could tell.

The situation was painfully uncomfortable.

“Ah, there’s...spiders.” Jill looked up at Chris, who seemed skeptical. Jill Valentine wasn’t the kind of woman to shriek over a spider. “I mean, monster spiders. _Huge_ spiders.”

She gestured with her hands, and Barry nodded.

“Yeah, I saw them. Someone took a few of them out. Might have been Wesker.”  
  
“Wesker’s alive?” Jill took the claim with a grain of salt. It wasn't that she doubted Wesker's capabilities, but rather because of the lack of trust she now harbored with Barry. Wesker was skilled enough to survive without question.

Barry scratched the back of his neck, gesturing back towards the mansion. “We crossed paths back in the mansion. He gave orders to continue with the investigation and figure out what the hell is going on here.”

The sound of a moth diving against the lamp nearby and the chirping of crickets filled the silence. It seemed incredulous to continue this mission, but if anyone were to order so, it _would_ be Wesker.

Chris cursed under his breath.

* * *

 “What?! Jill, that’s insane.” Chris hissed at her in a whisper. They had stepped back inside of the residence once Barry had opted to return to the mansion. Jill had pulled Chris into a bedroom, locking the door behind her to reveal the details of her eavesdropping. 

She shook her head, throwing her hands up in an exasperated gesture. “I know, Chris...I _know_ , but I heard it.”

Chris paced the small distance in the room for a moment before sighing, taking a seat on the edge of the disheveled bed. “Barry...he wouldn’t do that, okay?”

Jill felt a pang of guilt course through her. She had known that Chris was close to Barry. Losing Forest was certainly difficult enough, but being told that your other close pal was a traitor was something else. Add in a sprinkle of monsters straight from your childhood nightmares and a bunch of infuriating puzzles and you were bound to have a terrible day.

Jill kneeled down in front of Chris. “Chris, listen…” Carefully, she took one of his hands, enclosing it with hers. She didn’t know what to say. Granted, conversation wasn’t one of Jill’s greatest talents, but what do you tell someone in this situation when you’re terrified yourself?

Her eyes were so painfully blue, even in the harsh yellow lamplight of the bedroom. There was something about the way she looked at him that made him ache. He wanted to grab her, to crush her against his chest and hold her as tightly as he could, to use her as an anchor to remind him that everything would be okay. He wanted the nightmare to be over, to be back at the station with her, teasing Joseph about his ridiculous theories and eating shitty take out food during their overnight shifts.

She didn’t want him to feel guilty. It was written all over his face and it made her angry. She wanted to figure out who was responsible for everything and hold them accountable for the deaths of their team members. Jill wanted to make them suffer, to clear Chris’s mind and conscience of the hypothetical what-ifs she knew were running through his head. She wanted to get the hell out of there, to bring Chris back to her apartment and help one another forget. 

Heat rose in her cheeks at the thought. It wasn’t the time nor the place, but there he was, sitting on the side of that bed with those broad shoulders and that sad, lost look in his eyes. She wanted to fix him. She wanted to remind him that she was still there, that she’d survive with him and would never do anything to hurt him. She wanted him to know that, through thick and thin, she was his goddamn _partner_ , and they were going to make it through the horror, with or without the others. 

So Jill did just that. Shifting her weight onto her knees, she inched forward, situating herself between his thighs as she sat on the floor. She reached up, cupping his face in her hands gently, and she allowed the soft flesh of the pad of her thumb to brush over the rough stubble that had formed across his cheeks. Her eyes held his, and she gave him a soft, comforting smile. 

And then she kissed him like he’d never been kissed before, all petal soft lips and just enough pressure to make him weak in the knees. His palm came to rest between her shoulders, the other slipping into her dark hair, and, zombies be damned, he pulled her closer and Chris Redfield kissed Jill Valentine like she’d never been kissed before.


	5. Typical

****Romance was a secret admirer and a bundle of roses delivered to your desk on a rough day. It was overpriced dinner dates and sweet nothings whispered low and soft in the backseat of your car. Romance was high school sweethearts and overly embellished stories about how you _knew_ you were soulmates the second you made eye contact across a busy coffee shop on a Friday morning.

To Jill Valentine, romance was Chris Redfield sucker punching a hunter in the midst of its pounce to keep it from clawing the hell out of your face as you frantically attempted to reload your handgun.

She let out a heavy sigh of relief and smoothly pressed the magazine into her pistol as the hunter collapsed onto the ground with a final shriek of pain. Chris winced and momentarily cradled his fist, nursing his knuckles that were sure to bruise.

“These assholes are even harder than they look.” He insisted, and Jill took his word for it, not particularly eager to find out for herself.

The tunnels beneath the mansion were damp and dark, and Jill found herself surprised by the chill that wafted throughout. It seemed fitting that creatures such as these would be lurking below the surface of the ground. If giant spiders were eerie, hunters were fucking _terrifying_ with their hulking half-human, half-reptilian appearance. She assumed that they belonged here, underground, just a _little_ closer to Hell.

Jill was tired. The effects of the seemingly night-long adrenaline rush had begin to lull, and she was painfully aware of how uncomfortable her boots were. With the last hunter in sight taken care of, she leaned against the cool rock, removing her beret to run her fingers through her dark hair. She appreciated the crisp breeze that licked at the sweat that ran down the back of her neck, and she glanced over at Chris.

“Thanks for saving my face.” She joked, giving him a half-hearted smile.

Chris smirked, studying the hunter splayed out on the floor. “Don’t mention it. That’s what partners are for.” He echoed her previous statement cheekily, having punctuated the remark with a wink. The action hit her right through the chest, and Jill found herself questioning when she’d get the opportunity to kiss that arrogant mouth again.

Jill wondered if Chris was the kind of guy her mother would have warned her about, had she actually given enough of a damn to be present in her daughter’s life.

“Someone’s full of himself.” Jill peeled herself off of the wall, every muscle in her body seeming to scream in protest.

Chris gave her a shrug, lazily resting the shotgun over his shoulder as he turned away, sauntering down the tunnel. “If the shoe fits…”

“Don’t come any fucking closer!” A voice called out, the echo somehow making it seem a little harsher. Jill stiffened, mind racing to try to identify the man.

“Enrico?” Her experiences with the Bravo team had been limited, but she was certain that the authoritative tone belonged to the team’s captain. With as much haste as her aching feet would allow, she moved ahead of Chris, rounding the corner.

Enrico was slumped against the wall, face twisted into a grimace. Deep gashes ran across the front of his chest and thighs, and Jill could only imagine such wounds had come from one of the hunters they had encountered. The pool of blood he laid in was daunting. She didn’t know the body held so much blood.

His expression hardened as Chris approached, and he fumbled for the pistol at his side. “Fuck off, Redfield.”

Chris held up his hands in surrender, pausing mid-step, confusion written all over his face. Jill kneeled beside the Bravo leader, voice soft. “Enrico, what’s going on?”

Enrico maintained his attention on Chris, furious with the pointman. “Someone in S.T.A.R.S. is a traitor.” He swallowed thickly, taking a moment to grit through a wave of pain that washed over him. “I’ve narrowed it down...Redfield or Wesker. We’ve been their guinea pigs. This was all a t--”

The sound of a gunshot was even more deafening in the confines of the tunnel, causing Jill to reflexively cover her ears as a stain of red blossomed on Enrico’s chest. The theatrical nature of it didn’t even faze her at this point. The entire night had been comical enough to render this to be completely natural.

Jill bolted down the tunnel, feet aching and lungs burning, in hope of catching the assassin. She was not particularly surprised to find the passage ahead to be empty, and she let out a cry of frustration.

Chris’s warm hand was at her back, and she felt the hot pinpricks of tears to come sting the backs of her eyes. With the back of her hand, she rubbed them away, and allowed her shoulders to drop in a dejected stance.

“I guess that takes you off the hook.” She didn’t look at Chris in fear that he may see the wetness of her eyes.

After all, Jill Valentine didn’t cry.

* * *

Literature wasn’t his best subject in school, but Chris knew there was something poetic about the way Wesker’s precious test tube baby pimp-slapped him across the lab.

In hindsight, it wasn’t surprising that Wesker was the traitor Enrico had referred to in his final moments. Chris always knew the guy was weird, and the fact that he was some deranged, underground mad scientist pretty much explained it all. He suddenly regretted not letting Joseph anonymously report him as a probable school shooter in the past.

The creature was eerily silent as it watched Wesker fall in a crumpled heap onto the floor of the lab. Its expression was blank, seemingly lacking remorse for having murdered its own apparent father. Slowly, it turned towards Chris and Jill--not with a turn of its head, but by maneuvering its entire body to face them.

It was absolutely grotesque, standing around eight feet tall and covered in a spidery system of blood vessels stretched across its waxy grey skin. Its figure was humanoid, though its dead expression and lack of lips giving way to exposed gums and teeth made its face more than unsettling. The overgrown claw it held at its side was intimidating, but Chris could only suspect that the large, beating heart on the outside of its chest was its fatal flaw.

Without much of a second thought, he rapidly fired, pulling the trigger as hard as he could, unloading the entire magazine of his Samurai Edge directly into the creature’s heart. The monster stumbled, but seemed ultimately undeterred and continued its beeline for the pair.

Jill sprinted around its right side, the one that bore its human arm, and the monster slowly pivoted on its feet to track her. It was slow as hell. Chris wasn’t sure if that was a result of its premature release from its chamber or due to a complete failure on Umbrella’s part.

Having reloaded, he fired at it again, putting a series of bullets in the back of its skull. Again, it turned, facing Chris, and Jill emulated her partner, littering its back with as many rounds as she could.

* * *

The creature proved to look more devastating than it was, but that didn’t keep Jill’s legs from trembling as the elevator made its ascent, alarms blaring to announce activation of the facility’s impending self-destruction. She didn’t know what to make of any of the situation. Umbrella, the renowned pharmaceutical company, had been secretly manufacturing bioweapons and had conveniently led S.T.A.R.S. to their front door in order to test their efficiency? Wesker was behind it all? Barry was being blackmailed to lead them to Wesker?

It all seemed like a shitty indie sci-fi movie in the worst way possible.

She wondered if they’d be able to make it out in time. Chris caught the pensive look on her face, and he reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. “We have plenty of time, Jill.”

Chris soon ate his words once they arrived to the helipad, greeted by Barry being chased around by Wesker’s dear creation. Jill cursed, and Chris drew his shotgun. Rebecca had managed to survive and made contact with Vickers for a heli-evac. Chris was elated when he heard the news. Knocking out Vickers’ teeth would make up for all of the bullshit he had endured tonight.

The tussle with the Tyrant was little to write home about. The creature was slow and predictable, and Jill found herself to be more anxious about time than anything.

The sound of the helicopter’s blades beating eased her worries soon enough, and Vickers was true to his word. The pilot had come prepared, dropping a rocket launcher that Chris was more than willing to take, effectively blowing the creature into a shower of viscera across the pavement.

Within the safety of the helicopter, Jill nestled in close to Chris, resting her head on his shoulder. Her eyes fluttered closed, and, with the mansion far behind in the distance, Jill finally found her much needed rest.


	6. Assessment

****Nearly burning yourself alive beneath the hottest water the precinct’s showers would permit seemed like the most logical thing to do after making it out of the worst nightmare imaginable as far as Chris was concerned. He was too exhausted to even think, eyes held closed and his head hung forward beneath the faucet’s stream as he listened to the sound of water beating against the tile of the shower floor. Upon opening his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of pink-tinged water circling the drain below him, and he was suddenly very aware of the sting of the scalding water against his wounds.

He grunted and reached for the tap, flipping it off entirely. Jill had beelined for the showers herself, and he wondered if she had finished by now. The thought of her made him smile to himself as he toweled off, tousling his wet hair. He wasn’t sure what came next, but he certainly knew that Jill Valentine wasn’t solely his coworker at this point.

Chris liked that, but it worried him all the same. Jill seemed different than other women. She deserved more than the half-assed dinners and flirty one-liners he had used to seduce women in the past during his Air Force days. As much as he hated to admit it, for the first time in his life and much to her excitement, he figured he may soon be consulting Claire for dating advice.

Claire would be pretty disappointed to know that the media industry got zombies all wrong. She had always been a massive horror aficionado, always exposing herself to whatever films, comics, or video games she could manage to get her hands on. In her teenage years, she would always critique them over their dinner table, telling him the fatal flaws the main characters had made and how _she_ could survive a zombie apocalypse without a problem. Her freshman year English teacher had pulled him into her office once, concerned about Claire's mental health after she had written her own short story about the walking dead.

He laughed to himself. Maybe Claire's half-baked survival plans had contributed to his survival. If he ever decided to tell her about the secret of the Arklay mountains, he'd have to give her a little props.

Pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a wrinkled RPD t-shirt he retrieved from the bottom of his locker, Chris headed towards their office in search of his teammates. He wasn’t sure of what to do with himself, but he figured _someone_ would have an idea of what came next.

Rebecca was in their office, seated at her desk and staring ahead at the wall. Chris felt a little rage begin to boil within him, knowing Rebecca had been exposed to the mansion and all the fucked up shit that it contained. Of the S.T.A.R.S., Rebecca was youngest, and that had caused many of them to regard her in the same manner as one would a younger sister. Being separated from Claire had perhaps caused Chris to live vicariously through Rebecca, shifting some of that possessiveness onto her.

“Rebecca?” The young woman didn't seem to hear him. Her blue eyes remained fixed on some insignificant point in space, hands unmoving on the top of her desk. She was still dressed in her uniform that had long been ruined by a series of questionable stains that painted the front of her white vest.

Chris closed in on the distance between them, placing a hand on her shoulder. Rebecca jumped, chair rolling back, and she instinctively swatted his hand away. Once she faced him, her expression changed, and she softened her posture.

“Oh, Chris!” She forced an unconvincing smile. “I'm so glad you all made it.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a half hug in her seated position. “I'm glad you did too.” He had initially taken rumors of her survival with a grain of salt after all the deception that had gone down, and, truth be told, she was the least trained of the group, having no military experience and only an excellence in biochemistry to vouch for. The fact that she had made it impressed him in some morbid way. Perhaps Rebecca Chambers wasn’t the baby they had once thought she was.

Their reunion was interrupted by an announcement over the PA system demanding the immediate relocation of all S.T.A.R.S. members to their office. Chris rolled his eyes, recognizing Chief Irons’ voice instantly. He assumed Vickers had gone running right for him with his tail tucked between his legs like the good lap dog he was as soon as they had landed. Chris initially planned to show him mercy and only take out one row of his teeth, but now...he figured Vickers might want to upgrade his dental plan to cover dentures.

* * *

Royally pissed look mighty fine on Jill. She had entered the office with a particular fierceness, her irritation rolling off her in waves. Chris couldn’t help but smile and gave her a wave the moment the two made eye contact. Her demeanor shifted instantly, and she was unable to fight off the grin that crept its way onto her face. The bubbly feeling in her chest would have ordinarily been embarrassing, but she was grateful for the schoolgirl giddiness that Chris instilled in her at the present. It was a reminder that she was most definitely _alive_.

“You’d think he’d cut us a little slack after the bullshit we went through.” She grumbled, all but collapsing into her chair. Rebecca buried her face in her hands, letting out a quiet groan. “Sleep? No, time to file a report!”

Chris chuckled, leaning back in his chair to prop up his feet up on his desk. He figured it’d be a long meeting.

Barry entered the room, looking dejected. “The girls are safe at least.” He announced, relaying bits of the conversation he had shared with his wife. Chris was glad for it. Despite Barry’s actions, he forgave him. Were he in the same situation regarding Claire, Chris couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t have fulfilled Wesker’s demands either, as much as he hated the fucker.

Much to Chris’s dismay, Brad entered the room with an escort. He didn’t recognize the light-haired man in the white coat who Brad remained close to, but he gave off a professional aura. The man nodded to the group and Brad quickly shuffled to his desk, awkwardly attempting to avoid any acknowledgement of his team.

“Nice to see ya, Vickers.” Chris called out across the room, voice laced with venom. Brad simply nodded, keeping his head tucked low, refusing to make eye contact with Chris. _Chickenshit_. Chris thought, thoroughly pissed off by his meekness.

“I’m Dr. William Birkin.” White coat announced, smiling warmly to the group. Jill studied him suspiciously, and even Chris found himself shrinking back into his chair at the sight of her resting bitch face. She was icy as hell. He thought it was hot.

“Chief Irons has asked me to assess each of you to evaluate your health in the event that a quarantine needs to be placed.” Birkin surveyed the room, acknowledging each of the members with a brief gaze. “I can only imagine the horrors you all faced after hearing Vickers’ brief account of the mission.”

Chris smirked, his suspicions confirmed. “Hey, Vickers, make sure you ask him for a dental referral during your exam.”

Jill bit the inside of her cheek and Vickers covered his face with his hands, terrified of the ire of Chris Redfield.

* * *

Chris found himself seated across from Birkin at a polished table within an interrogation room deep in the bowels of the station. The man sat comfortably, legs crossed with a notepad resting on his thigh. A file was laid out on the table and he flipped through it, briefly scanning its contents.

“Is that my life story?” Chris asked, a little amused by the thinness of the file. Twenty-five years of life and he apparently hadn’t done shit with it. He glanced over at the mirror that spanned the wall beside him and frowned. Irons was probably cowering on the other side. It was only typical that their Chief of Police couldn’t be assed to so much as greet them upon their return.

 _Probably afraid he might catch a cold._ He held in a laugh. _But I’m sure he’ll be real proud of his “heroes” during the press conference._ Irons had a reputation for bragging about the achievements of S.T.A.R.S. publicly, all while treating them like red-headed stepchildren within the precinct.

Birkin smiled, flipping the file shut carefully. “How are you doing, Chris?” It seemed to be a genuine question. Chris wasn’t even sure how to respond.

“Tired?” It seemed like an obvious answer to him. “Exhausted?”

The doctor nodded, scrawling something down on the pad in his lap. “Did you sustain any injuries during the night?”

Chris subconsciously raised a hand to his left shoulder. He hadn’t even bothered to dress it with anything after his shower. It was probably a good idea to let a professional look at it. Some type of gross infection was the last thing he needed. “Nothing too bad.” He said with a shrug.

Birkin raised an eyebrow and Chris sighed. He pulled off his shirt in a quick motion, revealing the long series of lacerations that covered his shoulders. They were deep and angry, the surrounding skin red and inflamed, some extending beneath his collarbone.

“Looks bad enough.” Birkin pulled on a pair of gloves, approaching Chris slowly. He scrutinized the wounds, leaning in close enough to make Chris a little uncomfortable. Had the guy never been cut before? It didn’t seem like that big of a deal.

“Eh, my partner threw some antiseptic on it when it happened. It probably helped.” Chris really just wanted the ordeal to be over with. Somehow, it felt like an interrogation.

“What happened?” Birkin asked, opening a medical kit onto the table’s surface. He rifled through the supplies as Chris attempted to figure out how to explain the bastard that had done it.

“Uh…” He faltered. How did he word it without sounding like a complete idiot? _The guy’s probably got an IQ of a thousand anyway. Who gives a shit?_ “Zombies, you know? Dead people were walking around. My partner took one out. I passed back through the room later and the bastard was alive again, but even more of a bastard than before.”

Chris thought it sounded good enough.

“Zombies?” Birkin applied a cotton ball saturated in some solution to his wounds, and Chris hissed at the burning sensation.

“Yeah.” It sounded stupid when he said it aloud. “A bunch of rotting corpses walking around and trying to eat people. If you didn’t get them through the head or burn the corpses, some of them came back stronger and faster. Some people got bitten and became like them. I just got clawed.”

“Sounds like you were lucky.” Birkin didn’t seem too surprised by the story, but Brad had apparently already told him all about it. He had plenty of time to let the idea of zombies being more than fiction marinate in his head.

Chris snorted at the remark. “I wouldn’t call it lucky. More than half of my colleagues are dead.”

Hearing him say it aloud somehow made it seem more permanent than it did before. His stomach sunk.

_Everyone is fucking dead._

* * *

“Jill Valentine.” Birkin’s voice was confident and professional. He gave her a friendly smile from across the table, but Jill found it difficult to relax. The interrogation room was cold and being on the opposite side of the mirror was more unsettling than she would have expected it to be.

“How are you feeling?” Birkin fingered the spiral at the top of his notepad idly as he waited for Jill’s response. She had no idea what to say. She didn’t even know how she was feeling. Everything was happening too quickly for her to even process what had happened.

“I’m fine.” Her tone was as calm and even as ever. If she wasn’t alright, she gave no outward indication of it on first glance. Birkin nodded, jotting something down the paper. Jill bit the inside of her lip nervously. What was she supposed to say?

Her anxiety did not go unnoticed by the doctor. He noted the subtle bounce of her knee and the small scab she had worried into the corner of her lip with her teeth.

“Were you hurt during the mission?” Jill felt like it was a loaded question. _Physically or mentally?_ She wanted to ask. Instead, she shook her head. “Just a few bruises, I think.”

Birkin retrieved a stethoscope from his pocket and moved to sit beside Jill. She swallowed hard.

“Just a quick exam.” He assured her, placing the diaphragm of the stethoscope to her chest. Her heart was racing, and she unsuccessfully attempted to will it to slow. She strummed her nails against the edge of the table as he listened. His fingers encircled her delicate wrist with ease, checking her pulse.

“Are you sure you weren’t injured?” Birkin asked once more, causing Jill to frown. “I was very careful.” She insisted, almost a little offended by the remark. “My partner and I work well together.”

“Do you mean Chris?” Jill nodded, and Birkin moved back to his seat across from her, scribbling once again. _What the hell does he need to know?_

Birkin smiled at Jill once again, and she found it a little unnerving. “All seems well.” He rifled through his pocket, producing a small white bottle. “Be sure to get some rest.” He placed it on the table, sliding it across the polished surface towards Jill.

“In case you have trouble sleeping.” Birkin explained.

Jill looked down at the bottle, wrinkling her nose. _Fuck that._

“Thanks.” She took the bottle carefully, shoving it into her pocket. With a nod, she rose from the table, bidding the doctor farewell.

_Who the fuck does he think he is?_

* * *

Chris was waiting for her at the top of the stairs, leaned up against a wall with his eyes closed. At first, Jill wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t sleeping, but as she approached the top step, he cracked open an eye. “How’d the Spanish Inquisition go?”

Jill scoffed and Chris snickered. “Glad to hear that it was a great experience for you too.” She ran a hand through her hair, brushing the dark strands away from her face. Her ordinarily bright eyes seemed dull, evidence of her exhaustion making itself known in dark half-moons beneath her lids. She seemed paler than usual and much less focused, her movement slowed.

 _She’s exhausted_. Chris felt the urge to scoop her into his arms and put her to bed in the same way he would Claire when she insisted on staying up far too late on a school night in wait for him to return from work. He worried a little about Jill. Sure, there was no denying that she was a bonafide zombie-slaying badass, but seeing her look so sickly was frightening. Jill Valentine was always composed and collected. This didn’t suit her.

“You should get some rest.” It was worded as a suggestion, but Jill could tell it was a command.

The thought of her dark, empty apartment was a little disconcerting. Jill didn’t want to admit it, but being left to her own devices was often detrimental for her. She had a habit of overthinking, and she typically kept herself extraordinarily busy to keep her mind at ease. The demanding nature of the job was partially what attracted her to S.T.A.R.S. in the first place.

What does one do with themselves after having to put down half of the people they know?

Jill didn’t know, but she gave Chris one of those wide smiles that made him feel like the luckiest dope on the planet anyway.

“You should get some rest too.” Her attention landed on his shoulders, and he clicked his tongue. “It’s not that bad.” He insisted once more, feeling a little like a broken record.

She fell into step beside him as they headed to the locker room to collect their belongings. The trip was quiet, but his presence was enough to placate her. Jill wasn’t sure what it was about Chris Redfield that made him seem so close to perfect, but figured it wasn’t important. The fact of the matter was that it _worked_. She found that he fit her like the missing puzzle piece that had once been long lost, and she appreciated it more than words could express.

Her mind was still as she collected her bag, but her heart felt as if it were fluttering in the base of her throat like a caged bird. She watched Chris close his locker beside her and the way the muscles in his arm flexed with the movement. She watched him sling his backpack over his shoulder with ease, a fleeting grimace passing over his face as the strap came in contact with his injuries. She watched him turn towards her with that boyish smile, lips moving with a question, but she didn’t hear a word.

Instead, she watched his eyes widen as she stood on her tiptoes, crashing her mouth into his. Her fingers found the nape of his neck and she cradled the back of his head as she pulled him firmly against her. His hands came to find her waist, and he tugged at her with equal fervor, pressing each and every soft edge of her to the hard planes of his own body. Her teeth grazed over his lower lip, and he groaned into her mouth, allowing her tongue to find his in an intimate gesture.

She sighed against him, feeling an ache in both her heart and between her thighs. With deep regret, she pulled away, but left her forehead resting against his, their lips barely apart.

For the first time in her life, Jill Valentine whimpered, “I don’t want to be alone tonight.” 

And for the first time in his life, Chris Redfield didn’t have to be told twice.


	7. Burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised that there is a special flavor of nsfw here.

Jill's apartment was just as modest as she was, and Chris found that finding to be oddly endearing. Her quaint living space was decorated in a series of blues, greys, and whites, a color scheme that he had come to associate with her after prolonged exposure to her wardrobe. He made himself comfortable on the dark grey couch that encompassed the majority of the living area, sighing as he sunk into the softness of the cushions. It was nice to relax, for sure, but her presence made the relief just a little sweeter.

She paused at the kitchen counter, rifling through the mail that had piled up in her absence. The neat, looped script of her father's writing caught her eye and she shoved the envelope to the very bottom of the pile, but she wondered if out of sight truly meant out of mind. She placed her keys on the countertop and _finally_ slipped out of the shoes she had been cursing for the last several hours.

“Hey, Jill…!” Chris had turned on the television, his errant flipping of the channels coming to rest on the local news. The room was suffused in the orange glow of the flames being broadcast live from above a smattering of trees.

Arklay Forest was burning.

_“Raccoon City Fire Department has admitted to difficulties in controlling the spread of the mysterious fire.”_

A newscaster was reporting from the ground, seemingly undeterred by the massive wall of flames that roared in the background. The popping and crackling of the fire was audible, trees cracking and colliding against the earth as the blaze ate through their foundations.

_“The National Guard is en route. All citizens within the outskirts of the mountains are advised to evacuate.”_

Jill crossed her arms across her chest, standing beside the couch as she watched in morbid fascination. “Just what Umbrella wanted. No trace of anything.”

It was a shame. The lives lost to their bioterrorism apparently weren't enough. She wondered how high the body count would be once the inferno was eventually extinguished.

“They won't get away with it.” Chris's claim lacked the certainty that she would have liked to hear. Umbrella had proven their prowess in stealth, but it was only a matter of time before someone slipped up again...wasn’t it?

Chris didn't want to wait around to find out. “We'll stop them.”

Jill gave him a skeptical look. It reminded her of the lofty speech of a naive child promising to instill world peace in his adulthood. As much as she wanted to hold Umbrella accountable for their crimes, she wasn't sure that a ragtag group of survivors would be enough to do it. This would require intervention from the feds, for certain. Who knew if they had more facilities elsewhere?

“Are you hungry?” She asked mostly out of hospitality. Jill questioned the contents of her fridge, but there was bound to be something edible within the walls of her apartment. Chris shook his head. His appetite was typically insatiable, but the trauma had understandably managed to put it to rest for the night.

With his declination, she seated herself on the couch beside him, eyes fixed on the television. Scenes of the tragedy continued to flash across the screen: smoke billowing in the sky, a soot-covered face, bystanders coughing furiously, flames engulfing trees. Jill swore she could hear the anguished howls of the living dead as they burned with the forest.

It made her feel sick to her stomach.

“Get some sleep.” Chris placed a wide palm over her knee and gave it a slight squeeze. “I'll make sure the place doesn't burn down.”

Jill wanted to laugh at him for even suggesting that sleep could be a possibility, but the concern on his face silenced her. She watched him in the artificial illumination of the television screen and he met her with those pleading brown eyes that made it seemingly impossible to protest.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand to silence her. “I'm fine.” He assured, pulling the grey knit blanket that had been draped across the back of her couch into his lap. “I've slept in far worse places.”

_Stay with me_ , she wanted to plead, but yielded because Chris Redfield's puppy eyes proved to be the most formidable opponent she had ever faced to date.

* * *

Each time her eyes drifted closed, Jill saw the image of Kenneth burned into the backs of her eyelids, his throat slashed open as he gurgled for mercy. Within the darkness of her bedroom, her mind featured a slideshow of the horrible things she had experienced in the Arklay Mountains, forcing her body awake despite every exhausted fiber of her being screaming in protest.

The barking of a dog somewhere in the neighborhood somehow became accompanied by the swift footfalls of the hellhounds she had only narrowly escaped the night before. With a quiet groan, she turned onto her side, burying her face beneath her pillow. Would the rest of the S.T.A.R.S. toss and turn during the night, or would they sleep easily, having already buried the past behind them?

Jill harbored a sense of disappointment in herself. She felt this was a failure on her part, her apparent inability to expeditiously cope with what had occurred. Ever since her childhood, she had been exceptionally hard on herself, often holding herself to unrealistic standards, but she attributed these expectations to her successes in life. Her father’s encouragement to aspire for greatness in life was tainted by his suspect morality. Yes, she excelled in breaking and entering because of her father’s training, but he had not expected her to lend her talents to the police force. Her father was a career larcenist, and her noncompliance to a life of crime was perhaps his most grand disappointment in life.

With a squint, she peered over at her bedside alarm clock. It was half past one. Time apparently flew while you were being tormented.

She sat up in bed, the blankets pooling at her waist. Her mind wandered to Chris, as it often did as of late, and she swallowed hard. Jill was not the type of woman to bring men home, and the fact that _Chris-fucking-Redfield_ , of all people, was likely crashed on her couch roused her.

Ever since their initial meeting in the basement of the police station, Jill had been drawn to Chris like a moth to flame. There was no particular characteristic about him that she could pinpoint as having drawn her attention. The attraction was instantaneous. Something about him had felt so safe and familiar, soft and worn in all the right places like a blanket salvaged from childhood. It wasn’t something she could explain.

Joseph had spilled a lot of alpha team’s secrets during their interactions with one another. On her first day of work, he had been tasked with orienting her to the job. Their tour of the office had been enlightening, to say the least.

_“Captain Wesker is a cyborg.” Joseph stated the claim with enough conviction to make Jill wonder if he had intended for it to come off as the joke she interpreted it as._

_"He hates everything, doesn’t eat, probably kidnaps women and hides them in his basement, and you don’t ever wanna get on his bad side.” He paused, musing over his description of their boss. Pleased with his synopsis, he continued to lead Jill through the room._

_“Barry is old and kinda boring because he has kids. He pretends he’s fair and doesn’t like to cause trouble, but he’s friends with Chris. They were both in the Air Force together and have some of that ‘hoorah brotherhood’ bullshit going on. It’s cool though.”_

_He gestured towards the cleanest desk out of the group, its surface wiped bare of any hint of personalization aside from a photo of two young girls. She assumed they were his daughters, and she smiled at the gesture because Dick Valentine wasn’t the kind of dad to put her photo up on his desk._

_The next desk was in complete disarray, littered with crumpled up candy wrappers and disorganized piles of notes._

_“I’m usually pretty clean.” He openly lied, but Jill let it slide._

_“I’m sure you are.” She teased, and Joseph scowled at her. He pointed to the desk beside his._

_"This is Brad’s. He’s a rule follower, so don’t tell him anything you don’t want the Captain or Chief Irons to hear about.” Jill took note of his warning. There was always a brown-noser no matter where you were._

_“Forest seems like a dick when you first meet him, but he means well. He’d give ya the shirt off his back if you needed it.” He pointed towards the back of the room._

_“_ _He’s kinda competitive, but mostly with Chris. He’s jealous of him probably, but Chris doesn’t brag or anything. Forest just likes the challenge.”_

_“Chris is on vacation right now, but you’re gonna have to share a space with him.” Joseph took a moment to mull over his introduction._

_“He’s a good guy who does the right thing most of the time, but his anger gets the best of him sometimes. I think he’s stressed out cuz he’s been responsible for his kid sister ever since their parents died. Don’t worry though, he hates Captain the most, so you probably won’t make him mad.” He leaned in closer to Jill and whispered, “I wanna see him kick his ass someday. Redfield’s got some serious guns.”_

Jill laughed a little to herself at the recollection of the bittersweet memory. Wesker wasn’t a cyborg as far as she could tell and Barry wasn’t really _that_ old, but Joseph had been spot-on about some of his assessments. A sense of melancholy filled her as she realized she wouldn’t be able to listen to any of his far fetched conspiracy theories any longer. Aside from the Arklay cannibal axe murderer, he had attempted to assure her that the government was hiding mutant alligators in Raccoon City’s sewer system, among other ridiculous things. She was grateful for the comic relief he offered, given the harsh nature of the job.

Having grown a little restless from lingering in bed, Jill rose and stretched her limbs in a long, exaggerated manner. She was inadvertently trying to kill time, somehow a little nervous in her own home by the presence of her partner despite having spent more than ample enough time with him to be at ease.

With as much stealth as she could muster, Jill slipped out of her bedroom door, searching for a distraction.

* * *

Chris was nestled into the couch, arms extended behind his head and feet just barely hanging over the arm’s edge as he stared hard at the ceiling. He had drifted off for a little while, but had startled himself awake some time past midnight. The finer details of his dream were hazy, but stills of the nightmare managed to flash through his memory--him on his knees with Barry holding a gun to his temple, blood pouring from Jill’s mouth when she attempted to speak, Rebecca convulsing on the floor where Kenneth had been.

A shiver ran up his spine, and he closed his eyes tightly, willing it all away. _You’re probably gonna be fucked up for a little while._ He thought to himself, accepting his inevitable fate. Chris wondered how the others were managing, though a petty part of him hoped Vickers was suffering. _Fuck him._   _Motherfucker deserves what he gets._

The closure of a door halted his train of thought, and he craned his neck a little, peering over the edge of the couch. The blinds were cracked just slightly, allowing strips of the yellow lamplight from outside to filter through the window. He caught Jill’s silhouette in the faint light, and he jolted upright on the couch to see her more fully.

Even when disheveled by sleep, Chris found her to be breathtaking. She had paused mid-movement, a hand still on the doorknob with the other pressed against the doorframe in her attempt to maneuver the door as quietly as possible. Her short hair was tousled slightly, wrinkles evident in the oversized shirt she wore. He followed her figure, breath hitching in his throat upon discovering the hem of the shirt ended just past the tops of her thighs, putting her long, pale legs on display.

He coughed to kill the whimper that threatened to surface, and Jill jumped slightly at the sound. She hadn’t expected him to be awake.

“Chris.” His name rolled off her lips with ease, her voice warm and a little hoarse. It stirred something in him, fanning the flames of something smoldering hot in the depths of his belly that threatened to boil over at any minute.

“Jill.” His voice was exceptionally husky, and she instinctively bit her lower lip at the sound of it. It wasn’t _fair_ how attracted she was to him.

She turned towards him slowly, sheepishly running a hand through her hair in both a nervous gesture and an effort to make herself more presentable.

“I...couldn’t sleep.” She confessed, forcing a quiet laugh. Chris swallowed hard, studying the rise of the hem of her shirt as she moved. _Maybe I can wear you out._  He wanted to punch himself for the thought, but his subconscious prayed she’d grant that unspoken wish.

“Yeah, me neither.” He admitted, tearing his eyes away from those fucking legs that didn’t seem to end. She didn’t even know how _hot_ she was, and Chris thought it ought to be a crime to not let her know.

_Nut up, Redfield_. He practically screamed at himself. _You wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want you to be_.

Chris was conflicted. She was Jill Valentine, his partner and the woman he owed his life to, and she was different than any of the _girls_ he had romped around with in the past. She deserved the best he could offer. She deserved romance and whatever the hell else women dreamed of, the latter yet having been determined since he hadn’t had a chance to probe Claire for the answer.

But here she was, standing in front of him, half naked and watching him with those lonely blue eyes that made his heart clench in his chest like a vise. Chris Redfield was honorable, yes, but he was a red-blooded man whose patience could only be tested for so long before he snapped.

Jill Valentine had always been an overachiever, and in this moment, she lived up to that reputation. She didn’t merely cause Chris to snap--she _shattered_ him.

He closed the distance between them with a speed that she couldn’t quite register. Jill found herself pressed between the door and his hard body, one of his hands pinning her wrist above her head and the other curved around her hip.

His breath was hot and ragged in her ear and he all but growled, voice gruff as he murmured, “Let me wear you out.”

The hard press of her hips against his was all the answer he needed. In one fluid motion, he slipped his hands behind her thighs, lifting her against the door and finding her mouth with such persistence that she gasped, and he took advantage of the opportunity to taste her more fully. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands found his face as she kissed him with abandon, all teeth and tongue and a clear communication of just how _desperately_ she needed him.

He cradled her back with a palm, holding her to him as he pushed open her bedroom door, wasting no time in seating himself on the edge of the mattress with her straddling his hips. When he broke off the kiss, she whined in protest, and he buried his face in the smooth column of her neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair, tilting her head to the side to offer him better access, and he playfully nipped at the sensitive skin. Her other hand slid up his arm, reveling in the feel of the muscle that shifted beneath his tanned flesh, and she bucked her hips against his.

The loose collar of her shirt had exposed the delicate curve of her collarbone, and he groaned against it as the heat between her thighs came in contact with him. No, zombies and fucked up reptile hybrids weren’t enough to kill him, but he thought Jill Valentine might prove to be the death of him if she didn’t take it easy.

He pulled away and the sight of her, lips swollen and flushed, compelled him to crush his mouth to hers once more. His hands drifted beneath the hem of that goddamn shirt, fingertips dancing along soft skin at last, and he moaned into her mouth when he caught the frilled edge of her skimpy underwear with his index finger.

She was _perfect_.

His hand ventured across the expanse of her back, caressing hot skin along its path. It came to rest at the nape of her neck, and he pulled back, using his free hand to tug her shirt away from her body as if it were offensive in some way.

He nearly lost it at the sight of her, all pale skin and full curves in his lap. In this moment, Chris was grateful for all the misfortunes in his life, convinced that he had saved up every ounce of his luck to meet her.

God _damn_ , he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Her deft hands were at his hips, yanking at the fabric of his shirt. He was more than eager to oblige her and tossed it across the room without regard, too enamored by the sight of her to be concerned with anything else. She traced her fingertips across his chest, slow and purposeful as if committing each and every ridge of muscle to memory, and, unexpectedly, she gave him a rough shove, and he found himself flat against the mattress.

Jill curled her fingers beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, and she pulled the fabric back with one fell movement, leaving him exposed beneath her. He watched her with fascination as she bit her lower lip and allowed her eyes to wander the entire length of his body, taking in the sight of him.

It was too fucking much.

Chris thrust his hips forward, lifting her weight as he shifted positions, transferring her to the mattress as he rolled on top of her. He nuzzled the side of her face, nose brushing against her ear as he peeled off the last little scrap of clothing she wore. With her lingerie discarded onto the floor, he could _smell_ her, drenched and ready for _him_ , and he felt a sense of pride bubble in his chest because, holy hell, it was _him_ who she longed for. He pressed a kiss to her temple and then the bridge of her nose, watching her as he slid into her at last.

Jill mewled when he filled her, and the sound dissolved the final shred of constraint he had.

He thrust into her and she greedily took every last bit of him until his pelvis met hers. His eyes rolled back in his head as she clamped down around him, lifting her legs to circle his waist once again and bring him just a _hair_ closer. 

That night, Chris proved to be a man of his word. He wore her out again and _again_ until she was limp beneath him, each and every muscle in her body spent. She struggled to keep her eyes open as he pulled her on top of him, and she tucked herself beneath his arm, thought fading into static as sleep came.

There, in Chris’s warm embrace, Jill finally found the dreamless sleep she had so desperately craved, and Chris grinned to himself in the dark.

No, it wasn't romance, but it was  _love_ , and Chris knew she deserved that, if nothing else.


	8. Breaking Point

****It took every last ounce of self-control that he could muster to keep Chris from strangling Irons with his own bare hands. The portly man across the desk cowered back into his chair, his nervousness evident by the subtle twitch of an eyebrow. “It’s not that I don’t believe you Chris…” Irons sighed, burying his face in his hands. “It’s just that we have nothing to go by. The mansion was destroyed along with over half of Arklay Forest. We can’t have a trial with no evidence, let alone an arrest!”

Chris averted his eyes, unable to look at the man any longer lest he be the one arrested for assault. The sight of all the frames and polished awards lining the walls of the Chief’s office made him sick to his stomach. _Such a brave leader._ He thought wryly. _Very deserving of all this power and praise._ “I’m sorry, Chris.” Irons spoke contritely, giving the younger man a dejected look as he leaned back into his chair, arms extended on the top of his desk. “I can only imagine how hard it is to deal with what’s happened, but we can’t just make an unwarranted arrest.”

Jaw clenched, Chris rose from the chair. “Thanks for the help, Chief. I knew I could count on your support.” It was a caustic remark, but if it affected Irons in any way, he wouldn’t ever know. Without any hesitation, Chris ducked out of Irons’ office, not even bothering to look back at the man he was expected to call his superior.

Chris paused outside of the office, taking in a deep breath. His blood boiled so hotly that he felt that his skin might burn, and he closed his eyes, leaning against the wall nearby. _Fuck it. Fuck Umbrella, Fuck Irons, Fuck the RPD. Fuck it all._ Despite all his efforts to relax, Chris was seething. Didn’t anyone give a shit that Umbrella was playing bioterrorist games off the radar while under the guise of mass producing pharmaceuticals for the general public? It was only a matter of time before the T-virus was released to the masses, and there was no telling what it was capable of on such a large scale.

He had to admit that he wouldn’t mind putting a bullet between a zombified Irons’ eyes.

Gritting his teeth, he headed back down the hallway towards the direction of the S.T.A.R.S. office. No one seemed to be even remotely alarmed about their findings about Umbrella. It didn’t make any sense.

“H-hey, Redfield!” Chris came to a halt as he passed through the reception area, turning to give the officer a pointed look. He had no idea who the guy was and didn’t really care to find out. Chris studied him coldly, noting the plain uniform of a relatively new recruit.

The rookie regretted catching his attention and squirmed a little under Chris’s scrutiny. He had heard rumors about Chris, but didn’t expect him to be so standoffish. “I just...wanted to say that, no matter what everyone around the station says...I believe your story.”

That piqued his interest. Chris turned towards him more fully. “And what is it that everyone is saying?” He pressed, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Uhh...that it’s all kinda outlandish, you know?” The officer’s voice cracked. “I don’t doubt you, but some people do. That’s some scary shit though. I don’t know why they think anyone would lie about it.”

Chris’s mind was made up. “Next time you hear someone running their mouth, tell them to come see me and I’ll tell them all about it.” By that, he meant he was going to knock the teeth out of the fuckhead who had the nerve to say anything at all to him. _Fuck all this shit._

* * *

Rebecca felt like she was dancing on eggshells from the moment Chris returned to their office. He practically knocked over his chair when he ripped it out from under his desk, throwing himself into it and leaning back, staring at the ceiling with his brows furrowed tightly. She lacked the bravado to directly question what had him so peeved, but she had an inkling of an idea. Rebecca had caught the tail end of some of the rumors, the whispers that flitted by whenever she passed through the station. Half of the Raccoon City Police Department thought the S.T.A.R.S. were insane.

Resting her chin in her hand, she looked back down at her desktop and the lack of progress she had made with her report. Irons had asked them to draft a final exposition on what had happened in the Arklay Mountains, but she found herself at a crossroads when it came to reporting the truth. She had not told anyone about the Ecliptic Express or…

Absentmindedly, she brought a hand to her chest, fingertips tracing the outline of the dog tags hidden beneath her shirt. Her heart wrenched in her chest, and she held in a tortured groan. Rebecca believed in doing the right thing, no matter the consequences, and something in the back of her mind told her that maybe, just _maybe_ , lying was alright this time around.

She thought she might be driven mad after a while, the only sounds in the room the scratching of her pen and the methodical ticking of the clock on the wall. Chris remained reclined back in his chair, face tilted up to the ceiling with his eyes closed and his arms draped across his chest. She was amused by the thought that perhaps Chris Redfield was meditating, and she was a little proud of him if that were the case because goodness knew he needed it.

Relief came over her when Jill quietly entered the office, and she gave the older woman a wide smile. Chris hadn’t moved from his position, and she pointed at him, shaking her head and wincing animatedly, hoping that her gesticulations would get the point across.

Jill gave her a sympathetic look and mouthed an apology. She knew Chris was irritable lately and she hoped dearly that Rebecca had not found herself on the receiving end of his wrath.

Gingerly, she placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke softly to him. “Come on, big guy. You owe me dinner for leaving me alone with Ryman this morning.” He had caught them early on in the shift, and Chris had wandered off mid-conversation, leaving her behind to hear him boast about crushing all the competition at Jack’s bar from the night prior in a game of darts. _“You guys should come by sometime. I wanna know just how far Redfield’s talents go.”_

Chris cracked open an eye and looked up at Jill with a grin, all of his frustration having dissolved the moment he heard her voice. He appreciated that she had such an effect on him and his mind raced with strategies on how to get her to be around him more often. “Sorry.” He didn’t sound very repentant at all, and the playful look in his eye confirmed that suspicion.

“I’m sure you are.” Jill rolled her eyes and then looked over at Rebecca, her attention returned to her work. “Are you hungry, Rebecca?” She asked, and Chris found himself to be a little ruffled by it. Maybe he was selfish, but he wanted all of his off-the-clock time with Jill to be private. His wishes were quickly granted when the younger woman shook her head and gave Jill a polite smile. “Thanks, but I really just want to get this work over with.”

Jill nodded in understanding and Chris wasted no time in following her out of the office, more than keen on leaving the station for the night and spending the rest of it with her.

* * *

Chris sat across from her, the long sleeves of his olive green shirt pushed up to his elbows. He was pensive, inertly pushing pasta around on his plate. Jill found his behavior to be disturbing. Chris typically wasn’t the type of guy to keep to himself...at least, not when she was concerned. He had been open with her, always wearing his heart on his sleeve and allowing her a window to his mind’s happenings through those impossibly deep brown eyes.

She hesitated to ask, not out of lack of concern, but because she had heard of his behavior around the precinct as of late. Jill feared harming him in some way by pressing the matter. She didn’t particularly worry about being the outlet for his anger--that just wasn’t Chris. It was only a matter of time before he spilled the secret.

As she had anticipated, Chris was the first to speak. “It’s all a little weird, don’t you think?” He leaned in closer to the table, glancing over his shoulder to survey their surroundings to ensure none of the other restaurant patrons were within earshot. “I don’t want to sound like Joseph, but…” He pursed his lips for a brief moment, apprehensive about saying his suspicion aloud. “What if Umbrella’s got everyone wrapped around their finger and they’re persuading them to blow us off?”

Jill froze, her hand wrapped around the base of her glass. It sounded so cliche to make Umbrella sound like an omnipotent, infallible movie villain, but she guessed that a lot of the things that had happened seemed cliche on paper, too.

“Maybe.” She finally said. Jill was almost afraid to suggest that it was a possibility, as if saying it aloud would somehow make it the truth.

“Come on, Jill.” Chris reached across the table, taking her hand in his. His fingers slipped between hers and he held their palms together tightly. “There’s no way that was their only lab. Look at how advanced everything was! Umbrella is still out there, and I’m willing to bet their experiments are, too.”

As much as she hated to admit it, Chris’s suggestion wasn’t a revelation for her--no, he had simply voiced her greatest worry of all. Deep down, she knew all along that the nightmare had only just begun.

* * *

Jill was on her way to the locker room when it happened.

She had been daydreaming, maybe, as she passed the dark room on her way to the staircase. The run she had just endured left her feeling drained, the stitch in her side not quite having subsided yet, lingering like a knife wedged between her ribs. She couldn’t recall what she had been thinking about as she slowly began to ascend the first set of stairs, but she was certain that it was the unnatural crack of bone being struck that hauled her from her trance. A series of shouts from higher up on the staircase followed, and, with a hand pressed to her side, she hurried her pace to figure out what the commotion was all about.

Jill didn’t know much about Elran aside from the fact that he served on the Juvenile Division...and that he was currently knocked onto his ass on the landing between the second and third floor, his hands cupping his face as blood freely poured from his nose and mouth. Ryman was yelling, his arms wrapped around Chris’s in a restraint maneuver as he pulled him back towards Jill’s direction. She couldn’t make out a single word, too transfixed by the blood that stained Chris’s fist.

“Get the fuck off me, Ryman!” Chris spat, throwing an elbow back to strike him in the side. Ryman hissed, but his grip never relented. Instead, he tightened his hold, shoving Chris to the left, pinning him between the wall and his own body. “Chill the fuck out, Redfield! Jesus Christ.” Chris continued to thrash against him, attempting to break free.

She was dumbstruck. A couple of other officers had rushed to the scene, one knelt beside Elran and the other speaking into a handheld radio. Rebecca came sprinting through the locker rooms, first aid kit in hand and a look of horror on her face as she passed Chris.

“Chris?” Jill swallowed hard and approached her partner. She rested a hand on his shoulder and he whipped his head in her direction, his furious expression slowly fading at the sight of her. “What’s going on?” Her voice was cool and even, a welcome juxtaposition to the cacophony of the hollering around him.

Chris wasn't sure what had happened, but he knew the worried look on her face didn't suit her. He loved her, but he hated the way she looked at him in that moment. Was she disappointed in him? _Fuck_ , he wasn't sure what hurt worse--her disappointment or his fist. One minute Elran was stumbling down the stairs, splashing him with coffee, and, before he knew it, he was beating the poor sap's face in.

What was he supposed to say?

He didn't know. All he knew was that he wanted the yelling to stop and for her to stop looking so _sad._

So he forced one of those lopsided, boyish smiles and winked at her. “Don't worry, Jill. Everything will be okay.”

This time, she didn’t believe him, despite how badly she wanted to.


	9. A New Beginning

It had been a week since Chris was put on suspension following the incident with Elran. Several officers corroborated reports regarding his erratic behavior as of late, and Irons claimed that he had been left with “no choice” but to force Chris into a leave of absence. No amount of protest or warnings about Umbrella were able to sway his decision.

The precinct was strangely lonely without Chris around. Though she enjoyed the company of Barry and Rebecca, she couldn’t quite shake the melancholy that milled about the office in the void her partner had left behind. Most of her time spent at work felt like a waste. She perpetually felt like _something_ was about to happen, as if she were just biding time until the next tragedy.

She was idly trailing her fork through her salad, aimlessly pushing leaves of lettuce around when Barry came to sit with her. “How are you holding up?” He asked with a concerned look.

Jill forced a smile in response, tilting her head to the side with a shrug. “Just a little frustrated waiting around for someone to take us seriously.”

Barry lowered himself into the chair across from her and nodded in understanding. “I know exactly how you feel, Jill.” He rested his forearms on the table and drew a little closer, voice dropping in volume as he whispered, “Chris and I found a lead on Umbrella.”

Jill was taken by surprise. Chris hadn’t told her that he and Barry were playing private detective behind the scenes. The fact that he had kept it a secret from her stung a little. Was it a lack of trust? Did he doubt her abilities? She felt offended and worried all the same. Chris wasn’t himself, and it seemed as though he were slipping away, trickling between her fingertips with exceeding haste as each day passed.

“I...didn’t realize the two of you were doing research.” Her voice came a little harder than intended, and Barry caught on. He reached across the table to rest a hand on top of Jill’s.

“Chris asked me not to tell you.” Barry explained with a sigh and a small shake of his head. “He didn’t want you to worry.”

Her frown was so deep that it almost hurt. Jill remained silent. Of all people, Chris should have known better. He should have _known_ that she would worry regardless. He should have _known_ that she would have been more than delighted to help him.

“He cares a lot about you, Jill.” Barry interrupted her train of thought. “Don’t be mad at him. He meant well.”

Jill nodded, but his words did little to placate her because he was Barry Burton, _not_ Chris Redfield, the man who had quickly become her rock and quite possibly the only thing keeping her together at this point, and she wasn’t sure what to think of that.

* * *

 The defeated look in her eyes felt like a sucker punch to the gut. She stood in the entryway of his apartment, arms crossed in a defensive position as she leaned against the door.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jill asked, voice laced with disappointment. Chris faltered, mind racing as he attempted to put his intentions into words. _I wanted you to have a break? I didn’t want you to worry? I thought you were stressed enough? I meant to tell you, but I heard you talking in your sleep the other night and it scared me?_

“I’m sorry.” He finally managed, voice hoarse with emotion. “I didn’t want to burden you with it. You’re still at work and I’m forced to sit around here with my dick in my hand pretending nothing ever happened. I had nothing better to do. I didn’t want you to worry. I didn--”

He was interrupted by the force of Jill colliding into him, her cheek pressed to his chest while she looped her arms around his waist to pull him into a hug. Instinctively, one of his palms rose to cradle the back of her head, the other loosely wrapping around her shoulders.

They stood in place for a moment, reveling in the comfort of one another’s embrace before Jill raised her head, chin pressed to his sternum as she looked up at him.

“You’re my _partner_ , Chris.” She spoke confidently, eyes searching his face. “I’m here with you through it all until the end, no matter what.”

Chris suddenly felt overwhelmingly embarrassed for leaving her out because, dammit, she was right. They were _partners_ and she was _Jill Valentine_ , the most badass woman he had ever met. If anyone else could handle his lofty goal of taking Umbrella down, it was _her_. She didn’t need protection.

“Yeah, partners ‘til the end.” He echoed, mouth pulling into a wide grin. Without warning, his palms found the back of her thighs, and he tugged her upwards. Her arms came around his neck to keep from falling as he unexpectedly lifted her, movement coming to a halt as he held her steady at his eye level. She wrapped her legs around his waist for stability, clinging to him tightly, lips parted in surprise.

Chris pressed a kiss to the soft skin of her cheek, lingering close to observe the way her dark lashes fanned out across her pale skin when her eyes fluttered shut. His lips grazed over her skin, ghosting over the tip of her nose before pressing another kiss. He made his way to her forehead, and then her temple, before allowing his mouth to hover just _barely_ above hers.

He kissed her carefully, his movement slow as if attempting to commit the taste of her to memory. Jill gripped his shoulders tightly, mewling softly into his mouth as he nipped gently at her lower lip, unable to suppress a broad smile. Jill was reserved in every aspect of her life but _this_ , and he thoroughly enjoyed coaxing these sounds from her. It was something that only the two of them shared, something _secret_ , and he took pride in the fact that she shared this part of herself with _him_.

When she pulled away for air, he leaned forward to brush his nose against hers in an eskimo kiss.

“You’re the best kind of partner.” He murmured, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Jill laughed, starved for air not only because of their spontaneous make out session, but also because of the bubbly sensation in her chest.

“A kissing partner _and_ a zombie ass-kicking partner?” She shook her head. “How did a meathead like you get so lucky?”

“Must have racked up a lot of karma in a past life.” Chris conjectured, voice laced with humor.

Jill laughed and buried her face in his shoulder. She idled for a moment, enjoying his warmth and breathing in the scent of him because, dammit, she had missed him. His absence from the precinct hit her harder than she had originally anticipated, and she hadn't realized just how badly she missed being close to him until that moment.

“So what did the two of you discover?” She asked, voice quiet and unsure, partially muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Did she want to know the answer?

She felt Chris steel against her. He wasn't sure of how to approach the explanation. After a moment of internal deliberation, he sighed and hoisted her a little higher, tightening his hold on her. “I'll just show you.”

Despite her protests, he carried her to the worn, grey couch in his living room, set her down, and grinned sheepishly at her when she gave him a pointed look to communicate her disapproval of his transport. He held up a hand, gesturing for her to wait as he headed to his bedroom.

Jill acquiesced and leaned back into the couch, taking in her surroundings. She was not surprised to find that his apartment was in desperate need of tidying. She noted the errant shirt draped over the back of the couch and the mountain of mail piled atop his coffee table and laughed internally to herself. “Controlled chaos,” he had called it the first time she sneered at his cluttered desk. It took more self-restraint than she would have liked to admit to keep from cleaning up the room.

He returned with a surprisingly well-kept file, plopping himself onto the couch beside her. “The nightmare continues.” Chris’s preface was ominous, and he passed her the folder, the explanation contained within it.

Jill hesitated before she flipped open the cover to reveal a thick report printed onto a stack of stark white paper. It was a lab report, she quickly realized, as her eyes swept over the words neatly typed at the center of the page: **Golgotha Virus Discovery**.

What surprised her even more was the name it was accredited to: William Birkin.

“Isn't this…?” A tense, stressed expression came across her face and her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the following page. She caught another familiar name, Lisa Trevor, in her skimming, and she looked over at Chris, bewildered.

“Birkin...was it the same Birkin?” She felt her stomach sink. Something was up with that guy, she had _known_ it. Why hadn't she trusted her gut at the time?

Chris shrugged. “It's not a particularly common name. Had to have been.”

In Jill’s mind, only two scenarios seemed likely--either Umbrella had more power than she assumed or Irons was somehow involved with their shenanigans. Both possibilities scared the hell out of her.

“Chris,” She said, attention still fixed on the report, “What if Irons…”

“Yeah.” His expression was hard. “Might be. I wouldn’t put it past that fucker.”

Jill wasn’t sure if the T- or G-Virus was more terrifying. She had witnessed the effects of the T-Virus firsthand as it ate through bodies and caused rapid necrotization of the body. According to the report, the G-Virus did just the opposite. It was capable of cellular regeneration and hypothesized by Birkin to grant biological immortality.

The idea made her ill. A wave of nausea crashed over her at the image that flashed through her mind, a horrific depiction of creatures, impervious to any methods she had employed previously to defeat them, taking over the city. Depending on the breadth of its host range, it could spread like wildfire throughout the _country._

Or the _world_.

“This is...terrifying.” She finally voiced, and Chris could only nod in agreement. This time, there were no words to relieve the fear for either of them.

* * *

 “ _What_?!”

Rebecca had found Jill in the parking lot behind the Raccoon Police Department. The sun had not yet risen, leaving their surroundings painted with the bright, fluorescent wash of the lamplights. Combined with the emptiness of the lot, it set an eerie stage, the sinister aura only amplified by the news Rebecca bore.

“I don’t know.” Rebecca looked back at the station over her shoulder with a confused expression. “I couldn’t badge in, so Rita let me in. We just assumed something was wrong with the chip in my card. I went upstairs and...our office is blocked off.” Her eyes were wet, glistening in the light. “Chief Irons disbanded S.T.A.R.S.”

Hearing it a second time did nothing to help Jill process the statement. It didn’t make sense, no matter how many times it echoed through her mind. _Why would Irons do this? More importantly, why would Irons do it without warning?_

Fury hit her without warning, the inside of her chest bursting into flame like a match struck in the pitch black of night. “This is a bunch of bullshit.” Jill didn’t think, but instead, she acted on impulse, fueled by her rage. Taking Rebecca by the wrist, she led her around to the front of the station, barging through the front door designated for public use.

She swept past the few officers who were settling into their posts and marched to their office with Rebecca in tow.

To her surprise, she was met by a man who towered above her, even while leaned against the front door to their office. He looked over at her, expression unimpressed as he remained propped against the wall, arms crossed against his chest.

“You lost?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.  
  
The S.T.A.R.S. plaque had been replaced with Raccoon S.W.A.T.

Jill took in a deep breath, willing herself to find composure. Rebecca made herself busy by studying the grime on the window adjacent their former office, desperately attempting to make her presence go unnoticed.

“What’s going on here?” Jill asked, voice as monotone as she could manage. She stood straight, staring the man directly in the eye. He was unresponsive to her glare and lazily gestured towards the plaque. “Go home, S.T.A.R.S. You’re done for. The big boys are moving in.”

He leaned forward and smirked at her. “Maybe y’all can put those big imaginations to use and write some ghost stories for a living now. I hear the _Raccoon Daily_ is hiring.”

Jill only smiled as she took Rebecca by the hand once more, tugging her. “Thanks for the tip.” She spat venomously as she headed back for the main hall.

“What a dick.” Rebecca muttered under her breath.

Jill paid little attention to the officers around them as she made her way to Irons’ office, barging in unceremoniously and demanding an explanation.

Brian Irons had to be one of the most spineless men she had ever encountered, Jill decided as she watched him shrink back into his chair. His eyes darted around the room, coming to rest on anything but the women who stood before him.

“It’s just no longer fiscally feasible to keep S.T.A.R.S. intact.” His voice quavered, his fingers nervously laced together atop his desk. “I’m truly sorry about the timing, but I can no longer justify utilizing the few of you who are left.”

Jill only laughed bitterly in response before turning on a heel and she strode out of the office, waving to her former Chief from over her shoulder. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” She warned, leaving his line of sight with Rebecca close behind.

Behind the closed door, Brian Irons quivered in fear of both Umbrella and the S.T.A.R.S. he had scorned.


	10. Discoveries

The muddled sound of chatter and the clinking of glasses echoed throughout Jack's bar, setting a steady, low hum of background noise for the patrons. Though the dim lighting and low music fostered a comfortable environment, the purpose of the meeting between the ex-S.T.A.R.S was anything but settling.

Barry leaned back into his chair and took a healthy sip of his beer in order to grant himself a pause from the conversation. The alcohol was, as far as he was concerned, much-needed, given the nature of the topic at hand.

“An _other_ virus?” The combination of terror and awe was apparent on Rebecca's face, her dark eyebrows disappearing beneath her fringe with the surprised expression.

Chris nodded and leaned in closer, elbows propped up on the table’s polished surface. “Yeah, and you’ll never guess who pioneered it.”

“Wesker?” It wasn’t _that_ difficult of a guess.

He shook his head. “William Birkin.”

Barry nearly choked on his beer, the revelation having come mid-swig. He set the bottle down with a little more force than intended, the noise of the glass against the table’s surface causing the group to shift their attention towards him. He leaned back into his chair and idly stroked his beard in a pensive gesture.

“William Birkin, huh?”

He had felt as though something were off from the very moment he had first met the alleged physician, but he had chalked it up to paranoia after having endured the Arklay nightmare. Mentally, he cursed himself for not making the connection sooner. He had a terrible habit of doubting himself despite his gut feelings often being correct.

_Speaking of gut feelings...might as well spill the sauce._

“I think Irons is involved.” Barry finally stated, arms crossed over his chest.

In response, Chris slammed his fist down on the table’s surface in an emotionally-charged motion. “I fucking said the same thing!”

If Chris noticed that he had garnered the attention of some of the patrons nearby, he gave no indication of it. Instead, he leaned in closer to the table, shoulders rounded with his elbows once again propped on its surface, “That fucking _sleazeball_ had to have known.”

“You know,” Rebecca chimed in, “The way he just suddenly disbanded the unit _was_ kind of weird…”

Chris pointed towards Rebecca, “He knew we were getting too close to the truth. _That’s_ why he forced all of us out.”

Jill encircled the base of her sweating glass with her hand and idly wiped the condensation away with broad swipes of her thumb. She couldn’t shake the fact that her life had suddenly devolved into a poorly written movie. Bioterrorism, corrupt cops, and a naive media source that would rather post ghost stories than investigate the strange reports they had received?

She would have laughed were she not burdened by the loss of those who had fallen.

“We have to do something.” Rebecca’s voice was uncharacteristically authoritative.

Though she agreed, Jill was at a loss for words. Yes, they had to do something, but _what_ was that something? Majority of the evidence had been destroyed in the fire, and the team was unsuccessful in convincing even their own colleagues of the truth. It all seemed like a lost cause.

Barry finished off the final sip of his beer before coming forth with additional evidence he had uncovered.

“There’s an Umbrella headquarters in Europe.” It was news even for Chris who had nearly given himself whiplash from the speed with which he whipped his head towards Barry upon hearing the words.

“I’m going to check it out.” Barry continued. “I’ll go alone if need be, but someone should stay here to tie up any loose ends that come out of all this.”

Immediately, Chris looked towards Jill. His expression was soft, almost wounded as the unspoken possibility of having to separate from her hovered in the air. Jill only smiled and nodded in her way of reassuring him, a communication that everything would be alright no matter what came next.

Whether or not she believed that notion was another story. Separating herself from Chris, the only person who she felt she could trust without question, in a time of such deceit was akin to punishment. Though she enjoyed the company of Barry and Rebecca, she wasn’t convinced that she could count on either of them in the ways that she could Chris.

Chris had saved her in more ways than one, just as she had done for him. Could Rebecca, the newbie medic, or Barry, the former traitor, truly have her back?

“I’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower anyway,” Rebecca finally piped up, “I’ll go with you, Barry.”

Rebecca felt her blood bubble with excitement at the prospect of going to Europe. Though the scenery would certainly be nice, it was honestly the Umbrella aspect of the trip that intrigued her. The Arklay incident had finally ignited the flame of her confidence as a special operative and she felt that, perhaps, undergoing this mission would finally strip her of her rookie title--not only with herself, but with the others as well. This was _finally_ her chance to earn her metaphorical stripes.

“Are you sure?” Chris’s worry was apparent in his voice. “I can go with him, Rebecca. It could be dangerous.”

Jill watched Rebecca roll her eyes in the same fashion a teenager would while enduring a paternal lecture.

“You know I’m part of S.T.A.R.S. too, right?” She threw her hands up in exasperation, eyebrows furrowed in ager. “I can handle this. I’m pretty sure Raccoon is _much_ more dangerous considering the virus was here! Someone has to stay behind. Plus, you and Jill work really well together anyway, so it might as well be you.”

Chris was conflicted between his of his desires of both protecting Rebecca and staying with Jill. This was made apparent by the pained look on his face.

Jill quickly deciphered Rebecca’s motivation for volunteering herself. Being a woman in a male-dominated field was difficult, and she herself had undergone a series of treacherous tasks while in the Army in an attempt to prove herself to her male colleagues. It was a disturbing rite of passage many had to endure, but unfortunately a necessity that she was all too familiar with.

“She’ll be fine, Chris.” Jill rested a hand on his shoulder. “If she wants to go, let her go. She’s just as entitled to kicking Umbrella’s ass as the rest of us.”

Chris’s lips parted in anticipation of forming a protest, but he ultimately remained silent. Though he wasn’t sure that he could handle the loss of another comrade, he knew that Jill was right. Rebecca was capable and she deserved a piece of the action, too. After all, she had endured the horror of the Arklay Forest longer than the rest of them had and had still managed to survive.

“Alright.” He surrendered and turned towards Barry. “Make sure to keep her safe, alright?”

Barry grinned knowingly and nodded.

“Well, I’m no Jill, but you know I’ve always had your back, Redfield.”

* * *

 

A loud series of knock rattled throughout his apartment. The volume of the banging inspired concern in Chris and he feared for the wellbeing of his visitor’s fist even as he reached for the Samurai Edge that sat on his coffee table. Jill gave him a quizzical look and he shrugged.

“Can never be too safe these days.” He explained, a boyish smirk coming across his face. “Maybe the G-virus taught them how to knock.”

Jill rolled her eyes, but her fingertips subconsciously found the grip of her own pistol that seemed to perpetually be fastened to her hip as of late. It wasn’t a sign of paranoia. No, she was just being _safe,_ she told herself. It was the smart thing to do.

Wasn't it?

Chris ripped open the door with more force than necessary and, though he had the handgun within his grip, it remained at his side, pointed towards the floor.

“What a warm welcome, Redfield. Really feels like my own home.”

Jill instantly recognized the snide tone and rose from the couch to greet Kevin.

“Long time no see, Ryman.” She gave a quick, welcoming wave to the officer. In response, Kevin gasped animatedly and pointed towards Jill.

“Wow, look at that! A proper greeting! Take notes, Redfield.”

Chris glowered at the longer-haired man and stepped to the side, allowing him space to enter the apartment. Kevin dumped his backpack unceremoniously onto the floor beside the couch and dropped into the chair nearby. Jill returned to her perch on the couch but Chris remained standing, arms crossed defensively across his chest.

“I’ve been collecting some information that'll interest the both of you.”

Kevin pulled his bag into closer proximity with his foot and began to rifle through its contents. “Lots of interesting things coming out of the Arklay Mountains...and I'm _not_ talking about dead hikers this time.”

It piqued Chris's interest instantly and he moved to sit on the edge of the coffee table, placing himself between his two visitors.

Kevin produced a file from his bag and passed it to Chris, who flipped it open without hesitation and began to flip through the pages.

“Civilian reports of monsters in the Arklay area.” He sounded amused, almost as if he found it all to be incredulous himself.

“Dozens of them. Multiple reports of _monsters_ this month and we still aren't being taken seriously.”

Jill tried her best to keep her nervousness at bay, but still shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Did this mean the T-virus was still at large? Was this a sure confirmation of Irons’ involvement in the scheme?

Kevin leaned forward, elbows rested on his thighs and his mouth set in a grim line. It was a far cry from his usual carefree demeanor and it caught the both of them a little off guard.

“No bullshit, guys.” He looked each of them in the eye. “What happened that night?”

Jill hesitated to speak and instead looked over at Chris, who sighed heavily. He ran the highlights of the events over in his mind in an attempt to form a brief summary that...made some semblance of sense, monster mayhem aside.

“Bravo team was dispatched to investigate the murders. We lost contact and were sent out for search and rescue the following night. Found their chopper downed in the woods, but Bravo was nowhere to be found. We were attacked on site by…”

Chris swallowed hard and looked over at Jill.

“Dogs.” She finished, “Zombie dogs, as stupid as it sounds.”

Kevin raised a curious eyebrow, but said nothing.

“Joseph...died there.” Jill's voice was hoarse, strained around a lump that had formed in her throat. It was the first time she spoke aloud about the night in detail. As she recounted the events, she swore she felt the chill of the forest licking at her skin, and it elicited goosebumps along her flesh.

Jill shivered. Chris continued for her.

“There was nothing we could have done. They outnumbered us, so...we ran until we came across a mansion.”

“A mansion in the middle of Arklay?” Kevin let out a long, low whistle. “News to me.”

“News to _all_ of us.” Chris clarified. “We took refuge there. Found Sullivan and Forest...already dead.”

Though word of the demise of S.T.A.R.S. had been passed through the precinct, their deaths still lingered heavily on most of the RPD. It was almost as if a somber shadow had passed over Kevin, and he shook his head. “Such a shame.”

“As it turned out, the whole thing was a set-up partially orchestrated by Wesker.” Chris scowled, the former captain's name nearly escaping him as a growl.

Kevin burst into a fit of boisterous laughter. He wasn't a part of the team, no, but Wesker had always given him nefarious vibes. It wasn't necessarily _funny,_ but the irony of it all was laughable.

“Yeah...he was affiliated with Umbrella. It was all a test of their bioweapons’ abilities.”

“And what happened to him?”

It was a question Chris had avoided asking. During their last meeting, Wesker had been bitch-slapped across the underground lab by a Tyrant. The way his body limply collapsed on to the ground had led him to believe he was either severely injured or dead, and then with the fire…

“Probably dead.” Jill swiftly stated, and then shortly revised her remark, voice like ice, “ _Hopefully_ dead.”

“The lab had a self-destruct mechanism that was set off. Wesker was presumably inside when it detonated, assuming the trauma from the B.O.W. didn't do the job already.”

Kevin leaned back in the chair and stared blankly at the floor for a while, processing the information he had been provided. Eventually, he let out a slow, deep breath, shaking his head as he sat upright.

“Well damn, guys. That's some shit.”

Chris chuckled darkly, “Yeah. It was some shit alright.”

“And some shit is still going on.” Kevin roughly tapped the cover of the file that Chris loosely held in his grip.

“Seems that way.” Chris flipped the pages quickly, watching the paper flutter.

“Well,” Jill cleared her throat and held back a smirk, “Ain't that some shit.”

* * *

 The scent of the burnt earth nearly overpowered the aroma of the vegetation that had survived the fire and Jill could taste the ash in the air from the very moment they stepped out of the police cruiser.

Chris let out a quiet grunt as he stretched, muscles tense and aching after enduring the lengthy ride. As he stared out into the darkness of the trees, he placed a hand to his shoulder, almost as if the forest had somehow reignited the pain of the injury.

It was a tense moment for the both of them. Though Kevin had been privy to the short and sweet version of their living nightmare, he had not anticipated the amount of tension that the ex-S.T.A.R.S. exuded upon their return to the Arklay Mountains.

In the distance, the snap of a tree branch echoed, followed by the loud, temperamental cawing of a bird.

“Funny how night time makes everything so much more sinister.” Kevin was sure that the bird’s call would have seemed much less foreboding in the daylight.

Jill subconsciously trailed the pad of her thumb along the grip of her handgun to provide herself a reminder of its presence, but it did not offer the feigned sense of security she had hoped for. The familiar, damp chill of the forest licked at her spine, and she closed her eyes as the audible thrumming of sprinting paws assaulted her senses.

_It's not real. Joseph is dead and so are they. You're freaking yourself out._

Her light eyes snapped open to find her colleagues standing at ease nearby, guns still safely snug in their holsters. She let out a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding and, though it was a barely audible sound, Chris noticed. He looked back at her over his shoulder and smiled brightly before making a subtle wave of his hand to beckon her forward.

Jill moved toward to stand beside him and peered into the darkness. She allowed her hand to wander in order for her fingertips to brush against his momentarily. It was fleeting contact, but it spoke volumes, a nonverbal reminder of _I’ve got your back._ Chris's fingers slipped between hers and he gave her hand a quick, strong squeeze.

_Partners 'til the end._

With a _click,_  the woods were illuminated by the artificial glow of Kevin's flashlight. He allowed the beam to flit between the trees, revealing the emptiness of the spaces between, and Jill was relieved by the shortage of glowing eyes glaring back at her.

“Well then,” Kevin slipped into a poor attempt at an Australian accent, “Let’s get to monster huntin’, ya cunts.”


	11. Buzzkill

Had she not known that the majority of the forest was destroyed in the fire, Jill might have suspected that she was standing in the very spot in which Joseph met his unfortunate fate. The familiarity of it all washed over her, images of that night rushing through her mind so swiftly that she threatened to drown. She felt as though she were suffocating and she clenched her eyes shut, willing herself to think of anything but the howls of the undead.

She wouldn't have known she was walking were it not for the crunching of the earth beneath her boots. Both Chris and Kevin had taken point and she followed them robotically, pistol held so tightly in her fist that her knuckles grew white. Her mouth felt impossibly dry and she attempted to swallow, eyes rapidly surveying as far beyond the trees as physically possible.

“Remind me what kind of monsters I'm looking for?” Kevin asked, voice a little light with humor. It all seemed so damn ridiculous, really...hunting for monsters in the dark like a kid checking the closet before bedtime.

Chris remained vigilant and Jill struggled to appreciate the sound of his voice over the loud, hurried pace of her heart.

“Come on, Ryman. You've seen zombie flicks, haven't you? Same shit. Might see some zombie dogs, fucked up plants, weird ass reptile hybrids, or giant, corpse-looking fuckers with their heart outside of their chest.”

Kevin whistled, the sound long and low.

“Ah, is that it?” The sarcasm in his voice earned a click of the tongue from Chris.

Chris didn't seem even remotely put off by the return to Arklay Forest. He maneuvered his way between the trees with the same finesse he usually did, unperturbed by the cracking of twigs beneath their feet and the rusting of leaves in the distance.

Jill, on the other hand, was in fight-or-flight. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck and she often forced herself to pause while she attempted to drown out the sound of her heart in order to assess her surroundings. She was grateful to know she was out of their sight as she lingered behind, the symptoms of her anxiety hidden.

_Burning the bodies kept them from coming back. There's no way they're still out here._

She had lost count of the number of corpses she had burned back in the mansion, but she knew that not a single one had reanimated after her makeshift cremations. The reports of monsters were probably just a modern day witch hysteria or, maybe, a diseased, disfigured animal struggling to survive after the forest fire.

Chris looked back at her over his shoulder and caught her gaze. The hard press of his stare made her momentarily wonder if he was somehow able to discern her racing thoughts. She just smiled at him and nodded, and it earned a wide, toothy grin on his part before he shifted his attention back to the path ahead.

Jill hated this shit - the mountains, the forest, the ominous fog that hovered just above the ground. She hated the eerie silence of the woods, the scent of the scorched vegetation, and the way her mind attempted to fill the quiet with the cadence of paws forcefully striking the dirt in sprint. And, in a way, she hated herself. When had she become so weak?

No. She hated _Umbrella_ for making her this way. It was their fault, not her own...wasn't it?

“Hey.”

Chris's hushed, commanding call seized her attention. She froze mid-step and let out a deep breath, preparing herself for what was to come.

She followed the beam of light from the end of his flashlight to the silhouette through the trees. Jill would never forget that telltale stance with shoulders slumped forward, arms limply dangling, and head lazily lolled to the side.

If Kevin was shocked, she didn't know. Jill couldn't tear her eyes away from the zombie that loomed just beyond the trees, unaware of their presence. How did it sustain the explosion?

“I'll be damned.” Kevin murmured, pistol raised as he slowly approached the creature.

Chris followed suit, encircling the monster from the opposite side, allowing the men to flank it with ease. As they drew close, the zombie let out a low, agonizing groan, and Jill felt her stomach turn just as the monster shuffled forward to stumble towards Kevin.

The deafening ring of a gunshot came through, rinsing the echo of the cries of the dead from her mind. Jill suddenly felt as though her feet were being swept from beneath her. Her vision began to spot black and she stumbled forward, hand desperately grasping at the air in an attempt to locate anything at _all_ to steady herself with. Her mind felt fuzzy and her body felt heavy as her heart began to slam against the confines of her chest, and the last thing she registered before her eyes slipped close was the horrified look on Chris's face as he watched her fall.

When she came to, Jill found herself enveloped with warmth. She was faintly aware that she seemed to be moving, but the weight of her eyelids forbade her from paying it too much attention. Instead, she nuzzled more closely against the source of the warmth beside her. Her cheek rubbed against the sturdy, hot surface, and she made a quiet whine in her throat.

When she felt a rumble beneath her face, she realized exactly where she was--safely cradled in Chris's arms as he carried her back to the car, engaged in conversation with Kevin.

She thought she may faint once more out of sheer embarrassment and perhaps she had. The next thing she knew, she was being lifted out of the backseat of the car, and she dared not open her eyes.

“You sure you've got it?” Kevin asked, gesturing towards the woman in his arms.

Chris nodded, completely unaffected by her weight.

“Yeah, no worries. I'll take her up to her room and call a cab to get home.”

Kevin ran a hand through his hair nervously and looked up at the sky, a little bewildered by the events that had occurred.

“So...fuckin’ zombies, no shit. Goddamn.” He looked at Chris, his usual carefree expression now eerily stiff. “What does this mean?”

Chris shrugged despite Jill being draped in his arms. “I guess the nightmare never ended. We'll talk tomorrow.”

He began to move towards the apartment complex's entrance, but idled momentarily.

“Be careful, Ryman. Monsters aren't the only thing worth fearing in Raccoon right now “

It was a heartfelt sentiment, his genuine concern for the other man thinly concealed as a warning. Kevin nodded and reciprocated.

“You too, man.”

* * *

 Chris would never tell Jill that he was aware of her nightmares. The sudden, half-coherent mumbles she uttered in the midst of the night often stirred him from his sleep and gave him a disturbing glimpse into the horrors of her mind. In some way, though, it gave him solidarity to know that he wasn't the only one struggling.

Sometimes, he thought about how unfair it all was. They all deserved better than this. Though he had never cared for it before, Chris somehow felt robbed of the normalcy of the humdrum of life. He was perpetually on edge, haunted by the presence of the notion that _something_ might be about to happen.

He studied her face as he pondered, one hand propping up the side of his head while the other ran through the soft tresses of her hair. She was stretched out in the bed beside him, the tension that seemed to perpetually linger between her brows finally at ease as she slept. In her sleep, Jill seemed to be at peace, but her unconscious whispering told him otherwise.

“...more death…” She mumbled, head shifting to the opposite side of the pillow.

His heart felt as though it had been set aflame. No, he didn't know the content of her dreams, but he had an inkling of an idea as to what they may have been about.

“Jill.” Chris spoke softly and cupped her shoulder in his hand to give it a gentle shake.

Her eyes flitted open and closed a few times in succession, eyelids heavy with sleep.

“Chris?”

Her blue eyes met his and he smiled widely as he gave a slight wave of his hand.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.”

He openly winced at his own shitty joke, but Jill took no offense. She extended her arms above her head and began to stretch, back arching away from the mattress in a feline-like manner.

Chris watched her every movement - the curve of her back, the way the hem of her shirt rose to expose the tender skin of her lower belly, and the small sound of pleasure that resounded low in her throat as she lowered herself back to the bed, satisfied with her stretch.

She never ceased to amaze him with any of the things she did. The way she moved fascinated him just as much as the ease with which she undid the padlock to his locker every time he managed to forget the combination.

“God, Chris, I'm so _sorry_.”

Jill was tempted to bury her head beneath the pillow and smother herself to death as she realized what had happened.

Why the hell did she faint? It certainly wasn't her first encounter with the living dead and, most likely, it wouldn't be her last, either. She had executed more of them than she wanted to admit, and yet she _passed out_ at the mere sight of one.

Jill was embarrassed. How could she have let that happen...in front of Kevin, no less.

“Jill.”

Chris had slid across the bed to close this distance between them and he allowed a wide, calloused palm to find the curve of her cheek. His dark eyes wandered over the features of her face with a particular sense of warmth that made her heart flutter in her chest.

Though they hadn't been apart, he _missed_ her. It was a feeling he couldn't quite describe, a longing for something that he wasn't entirely sure existed, but one thing was for certain - in his desire to be close to her, Chris wanted to forget where he ended and she began.

Chris kissed her slowly and sweetly with a tenderness that she never would have anticipated a man of his stature was capable of. It was gentle and light, a careful brush of his lips and the stubble that was peppered along his face in the late hour.

She felt his palm sweep slowly across the length of her from neck to hip before slipping beneath the edge of her shirt to press against the small of her back and bring her flush against him. His mouth traveled away from hers to paint the rise of her cheeks with wet, hot kisses, their path continuing to the underside of her jaw.

Jill was surprised to find how sensitive her skin was as he moved along her jawline, each playful nip eliciting a tingling sensation that traveled the length of her spine. She tilted her head back against the pillow to present the underside of her jaw to him and he smiled against her neck when he finally managed to draw a quiet gasp from her as his teeth traced the line of her throat.

The tip of his nose brushed at the smooth area of skin between her collarbones as he worked his way along her sternum, peppering her skin with intermittent kisses and playful nips. When the collar of her grey t-shirt no longer provided stretch, he slipped his hands beneath the bottom of it in search of more.

His thumbs traced over the front of her body, slipping between each and every groove of her ribs. He watched her with his chin pressed flush against her chest as she shuddered beneath his touch, soft flesh giving rise to gooseflesh in the wake of his hands.

He lifted her shirt and slid it along the length of her, pausing briefly as the fabric pooled beneath her chin to press his mouth to hers once more. It was chaste, a swift press of his lips against hers, and he broke it off just as quickly as he had initiated it to free her from her shirt.

Chris straddled her waist and leaned back, breaking their contact to tug off his own shirt. Jill’s pale eyes swept over his chest, lingering at each cut of muscle that flexed with his movement. It made him feel uncharacteristically self-conscious to be under the scrutiny of her stare and he wondered if her stare was one of appreciation or judgment.

He was relieved when her cool hands found him, fingertips dancing over the sculpt of his chest as they made their way towards his shoulders. She firmly pulled him downwards, bringing his mouth to hers, and she kissed him in a way that made the ache between his thighs nearly unbearable.

“Jill.” He murmured against her mouth, the free hand that was not supporting his weight finding itself tangled in her hair.

She hummed in response and deepened the kiss, all teeth and tongue with just enough pressure to make him groan. Her fingertips found the edge of his waistband and she didn’t hesitate to undo his button, making quick work of the zipper and letting the fabric fall open to rest low on his hips.

He hooked a finger beneath the edge of her sports bra and peeled it from her skin with ease, watching with fascination as her full breasts bounced free from the constrictive fabric. Chris buried his face in her chest, against her sternum, and listened briefly to the slow, steady thrum of her heartbeat.

Jill ran her fingers through the short strands of his hair, breathing ragged with anticipation. He idled only for a moment before cupping her breasts in his hands. In response, Jill inhaled sharply and bowed off the bed, her back arching instinctively.

He did not relent and instead kneaded her flesh gingerly, watching her as she bit her lower lip in order to keep from crying out. Once his thumb brushed against the hardened peak of her nipple, she mewled in spite of her best efforts, and Chris felt the warmth of pride bloom to life in his chest. She deserved this--deserved _him_ and all that he had to offer.

She felt the hot, moist pant of his breath against her skin before he took her nipple into his mouth, swirling the tip of his tongue around the swollen nub experimentally. Jill gasped and gripped his shoulders tightly, lost in the sensation of the sweltering heat that slowly began to consume her.

Her hips bucked against his as he worshipped her flesh with both his hands and mouth and she curled her hands into fists at his back. She gasped and writhed as his ministrations continued, coming to rest dangerously low at the hem of her pants.

Chris loved every second of it as he watched her slowly unravel as a result of his touch. Never would he have imagined that it would come to _this,_ with Jill crying out beneath him as he worked her body like he was born to do so. His heart swelled, rivaling that of his member as she bucked against him once more.

He slid the last bit of fabric over her hip bones at a dangerously glacial pace, earning a pointed look from her. He laughed, voice husky with his desire, but offered no verbal form of apology for his teasing.

Instead, his mouth found the juncture between her thighs, and Jill cried out in the way he had fantasized about since the last time he had the pleasure of taking her in that bed.

* * *

  _Giddy_ \- that was the word for it, he realized, the word to describe the way that Jill made him feel. Though he was exhausted in every sense of the word, Chris couldn’t quite force himself to wipe the smile off his face. Yeah, sure, sex was great--even _better_ with Jill--but it wasn’t solely the sex that raised his spirits. For the first time in a long while, Chris felt whole.

Ever since the loss of his parents, Chris had felt a part of him was lacking. He became well-acquainted with death at an early age and, though Claire had been there to fill the void their parents left behind, her departure for college somehow managed to reopen the bottomless pit he had once managed to fill.

It was bittersweet to send Claire off to university. Sweet, of course, because he only wanted the best for her and bitter because of the absence that seemed to mull about Raccoon City like a sulking teenager without her there.

Yes, Jill Valentine had waltzed into his life at an incredibly appropriate time. His only regret was that he hadn’t met her sooner.

He sighed as he cut the engine of his beat up Honda and leaned back in his seat to stare up at the flickering lights plastered on the side of the convenience store. His console had read 21:34, but he knew he had set it fifteen minutes fast to compensate for his poor punctuality.

Fifteen minutes difference meant he could still funnel coffee like a freshman at her first sorority party without feeling guilty about it. He could handle Jill’s lecture about the addictive qualities of caffeine and its effects on his body later.

Jill was right about most things and Chris quickly found that this was no exception. From the moment he entered the store, something seemed out of place. The chime of the bell hanging over the door seemed ominous in a way, but he chalked it up to either auditory hallucinations from sleep deprivation or the effect of residual post-coital adrenaline.

The teenage girl behind the counter didn’t even bother to acknowledge him when he stepped in, her attention glued to a magazine spread out on the counter. He lingered in the doorway for a moment to survey the few patrons inside. None seemed particularly menacing - an elderly couple browsing pharmaceuticals, a middle-aged man in a suit debating frozen dinners, and a young woman thoughtfully studying the impressive selection of chocolate.

Chris couldn’t explain why his hairs stood on end as he stood at the coffee station at the back of the store, but he knew he didn’t want to hang around for long. With his arms crossed over his chest, he leaned against the counter with his back to the wall in order to survey the store as his coffee brewed.

The familiar chime rang out again and a teenager stumbled in, the hood of his sweatshirt obscuring his face. Chris stiffened and was surprised to find that none of the other shoppers bothered to even glance at the kid.

 _Civilians_ , he had to remind himself. _Not everyone is a cop._

The newcomer shuffled through the aisle, swaying from side to side on unsteady feet. His hand reached out to grasp the edge of the shelving nearby in order to regain his balance and he paused, hunched over as his breath came in a staccato of rough heaves.

His first impression was that the guy was high. Raccoon City had a rapidly growing issue with drug abuse, an epidemic so impressive that the RPD had recently established a special unit solely to combat the issue. It didn’t seem unlikely that the kid was probably huffing some shit in the back alley behind the store and came by to binge on junk food.

Still, his hypothesis wasn’t strong enough to put him at ease. Chris kept his attention glued on the teenager as he attempted to rise.

A series of coughs came forth, the fit so violent that his shoulders shook, and Chris watched the splatter of blood paint the linoleum.

There was a ticking of a grandfather clock echoing somewhere in his mind and, for a moment, he swore he could smell the burn of wax.

He shook his head, throwing the memory of the dining hall from his mind. Huffing shit in a back alley probably tore up the lining of your throat. This was just a dumb kid in a convenience store, not the Arklay Mountains and all the fucked up shit it hid.

The kid groaned, low and deep, and Chris wasn’t sure if it was a hallucination or just a coincidence. Instinctively, his hand shot out for his hip, an action so familiar that it was committed to his muscle memory.

What he wasn’t expecting was the fistful of air in lieu of the coldness of steel.

Where the _fuck_ was his gun?

With an unnatural _crack_ of its neck, the kid snapped his face upwards, causing the hood of his sweatshirt to fall away. His shaggy fringe partially obscured his face, but the empty, milky appearance of his eyes was evidence enough.

Chris’s worst nightmare was quickly becoming a reality.

The zombie’s mouth drew back into a snarl and Chris went into auto-drive. He shoved the shelving as hard as he could, forcing it to topple over and pin the creature beneath its weight. The cacophony finally caught the attention of the others, and he felt himself tremble at the hissing sound the zombie made, its free hand helplessly reaching towards him as it gnashed its teeth.

“Everyone needs to get _out_.” Chris spoke quickly, voice quivering, “Get the fuck out, go straight home, and lock yourselves up. Don’t stop for anybody.”

They all stared blankly, bewildered by his erratic behavior.

“I’m not fucking around!” He shouted, gesturing towards the zombie. “This shit is for real. It’s not safe. Go!”

The teenage girl behind the counter burst into sobs, the receiver of a phone held in her trembling hand. “I-I’m calling the police.”

“I _am_ the police!” He spat, furious.

Didn’t they _fucking_ see it? It was still fucking shrieking and groaning, snatching at the air in its desperate attempt to grab a hold of him.

“Son, I think it’s best to stay calm.” The elderly man approached him, hands held in the air in a peaceful gesture. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Chris thought about Jill, alone in her apartment, waiting for him to come back. He thought about the way they reanimated a second time when a bullet wasn’t put through their skull and he thought about the hunters and the speed with which they could lunge, impervious to just about anything but a shotgun blast to the mouth.

More importantly, he thought about the empty space on his hip and just how horribly unprepared he was for all of this.

_Fuck it._

He wasn’t going to waste his time.

With as much strength as he could summon, Chris lifted his foot and stomped down on the shelving as hard as he could. The crack of bone beneath his weight caused him to wince and he couldn’t bring himself to observe the horrified looks on the others’ faces.

Instead, he dipped out as fast as he could, but not with enough haste to miss the groan that still came from beneath the fucker inside despite being severed in two.

He needed a gun...and Jill.

Fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading, dropping kudos, following, and commenting. Raccoon City is finally f-u-c-k-e-d and I'm excited to write about zombie gore again.


	12. Like Wildfire

The shrill wail of sirens in the distance caught her attention.

Jill paused, fingers still buried in her hair to work shampoo into her scalp when she thought she heard them. She cracked open the shower door and peeked her head through the opening, soap suds dripping onto the floor as she struggled to make out the sound. With her eyes closed, she listened to the high-pitched whine, and she sighed.

It was definitely an RPD siren.

She stepped back into the shower to work the soap from her hair and ponder the nature of the call. A drug bust wasn’t out of the question given Raccoon City’s penchant for narcotic abuse as of late, but neither was a traffic stop to pull over some drunk college kid on a Friday night. Either way, it wasn’t necessarily any of her business. With the termination of S.T.A.R.S., Jill Valentine technically was no longer a cop.

 _That_ was a difficult pill to swallow. Jill had begun to define herself by her career and having it so abruptly ripped away from her was startling. What came next for her? How does one go from blowing out zombies’ brains to a simple 9-to-5 at an office?

Toweling herself off, she leaned against the counter nearby and wrang the excess water from her hair. Maybe she would end up as a miserable security officer at the nearby mall, checking receipts for a living and taking out her stress on innocent teenagers.

That would be an awfully sad ending to her story. Maybe she could move to another city and start over at a different precinct, but what of Chris? Would he want to do the same? She couldn't imagine him settling for a street cop position and working his way up the chain again.

The burst of gunfire sounded and Jill nearly dropped her hairbrush in surprise. Immediately, she bolted for the window, clutching her towel closed at her chest. In the street below, a uniformed officer stood in the amber glow of the street light, handgun raised. Three men ambled towards him, movement slow and staggered, almost like…

Jill felt her heart skip a beat, temporarily seized by panic. Her eyes fluttered closed and she attempted to will herself to relax. She was fairly high up...how did she know if they were zombies or not? How would zombies sneak into Raccoon City undetected anyway?

The officer fired another shot and Jill’s eyes snapped open, once again intently focused on the scene. More shots came and she watched one of the men stumble and jerk before continuing to close in on the officer.

The fact that he didn’t crumple to the ground was evidence enough for her. She bolted towards her bedroom and ripped open the drawer of her nightstand in search of her own gun. Maybe Jill Valentine was no longer a cop, but she was an expert in putting down the walking dead and she’d be _damned_ if she was going to let another one of her own die at the hands of one of those bastards. She heard the front door of her apartment slam closed and she spun on her heel, gun raised in defense.

Chris stood in the doorway of her bedroom, hands up with palms exposed in surrender. With a long sigh of relief, she lowered her gun and pressed a palm to her chest to qwell the rapid thrumming of her heart.

“God, Chris, you scared the shit out of me.” She was breathless as a result of the racing of her heart and Chris stepped forward to place his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Jill, but…” He grimaced, regretting the words that would soon spill from his mouth, “We have to go. It happened. They’re _here_.”

When she looked up at him and the pure, unadulterated fear that rippled in the surface of her powder blue eyes nearly broke him. Without a second thought, he pulled her into his arms, holding her head against his chest as he cradled her close.

“Everything is going to be fine.” He winced at the quiver in his voice and desperately hoped that she hadn’t picked up on it. “We’re going to make it out.”

He felt her fingers curl against his back to take fistfuls of his shirt and he pulled her closer while hoping that she couldn’t make out the fearful thrumming of his own heart.

“Besides,” Chris murmured against the crown of her head, “These zombies don’t know what they’re up against. Jill _fucking_ Valentine? I’d take my rotten ass back home in an instant.”

She laughed against his chest and he felt a sense of relief wash over him at the sound. Her laughter was something that never failed to placate him and he was especially grateful to hear it now as the entire world was apparently crumbling to shit around him.

“Now, as much as I'd like to watch you take down Umbrella in a towel…” He trailed the pad of his finger over the long, slender curve of her shoulder, “I think you should probably get dressed.”

Jill stepped back to look down at herself, evaluating the short hem of her loose, frumpy towel.

“Are you insinuating that a woman can't put down zombies in the near nude?” She asked, a hand on her hip in feigned irritation.

Chris shook his head, attention glued to the rising hem of the towel as she moved.

“No, I just don't want any undead fucks thinking they can look at my woman.”

She gave him a pointed look and rolled her eyes humorously.

“I don't think zombies discriminate when it comes to their victims.”

“Uhh, I'm just saying...if I was a zombie, I'd totally go for _your_ brains.”

Jill wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“That's gross, Chris...also, _your_ woman?”

He grinned cheekily, prideful about his claim, and learned in to press a kiss to her temple.

“Damn right about that. Don’t you forget it.”

* * *

 Chris let out a long, lengthy wolf whistle when she stepped out of the bedroom, an action that inspired a stain of pink to spill across her cheeks. She had dressed for comfort rather than style, but Chris found the open, boatneck collar of her pale blue henley and the skinny cut of her dark pants to be enticing.

“I thought I told you that I didn't want any zombies checking out my woman.” He teased as she checked the contents of her backpack.

“At this rate, I don't think you'd accept even a potato sack.” The annoyance in her voice was evident as she zipped up the final pouch of her bag, pleased with her preparedness.

Jill sighed and gave him an annoyed look, one that soon faded into a lopsided smile. She was grateful to have him with her despite his dumb antics. He was half of her expertise, the opposite side of the same coin, and the only person she could ever imagine trudging through the zombie apocalypse with.

But, as desperately as she wanted to high tail it out of Raccoon City without looking back, she felt an inexplicable sense of responsibility regarding the outbreak. It certainly wasn’t her fault and there was absolutely nothing else she could have done to prevent it, but she had _experience_ and that was something that the rest of the city lacked. They wouldn’t know to burn the bodies or that the Tyrant’s heart was, unfortunately, not its weak point.

Her expression steeled and she looked over at Chris, her backpack slung over her shoulder and Samurai Edge in hand.

“You know we can’t just abandon everyone, right?” She asked, voice quiet and hoarse.

Chris’s shoulders slumped forward and he sighed.

“Yeah, I know…”

A small, selfish part of him wanted to argue with her, to scoop her up into his arms and carry her out of that damned city whether she wanted to or not. He wanted to plead for her to follow him, to leave them to figure out the mess for themselves, but he knew that it was _wrong,_ and, more importantly, he knew that it would weigh heavily on her conscience if they didn’t stay.

“Come on.” He gestured towards the door and gave her a small, reassuring smile, “Let’s go see if the RPD regrets letting us go yet.”

Jill paused on her way out the door to survey her apartment from over her shoulder one final time. She wasn’t particularly attached to the place, but she couldn’t suppress the pang of sadness that hit her as she realized it may never be her home again.

When she pulled the door closed, the click of the lock seemed to have a particular finality to it and she looked over at Chris with a sad smile.

The hallway was eerily silent, the only audible sound being the heavy fall of their boots against the carpet. Jill moved quietly through the dimly lit corridor, taking point with her pistol held low in preparation of what may lie ahead.

She paused at the stairwell exit and looked back at Chris, who raised his own handgun and nodded. As she pushed open the door, the entire apartment fell into darkness as if it had been shrouded with a blanket in a single toss.

Jill fumbled for her backpack in search of a flashlight in the pitch black. The click of Chris’s lighter brought her relief and she relaxed, pulling open the side pouch with the assistance of the low flicker of light that it provided.

“I didn’t think we’d lose power so soon.” She admitted, a little embarrassed for her lack of preparedness.

Chris thought she was brilliant for thinking to pack the flashlights to begin with.

He moved ahead of her, stepping into the stairwell and sweeping the area with the beam of his flashlight. With his immediate surroundings safe, he leaned over the railing to look down to the levels below. Though his vantage point wasn’t ideal, they seemed to be alone.

He reached back for her hand gave it a gentle tug, prodding her to follow. She remained pressed close to the railing as they descended the stairs in close proximity, moving slowly and as soundlessly as they could manage.

They were on the first floor when they heard the loud, heavy slam of a door from further up above followed by the scream of a woman. The familiar hiss of a zombie echoed down the narrow chamber of the stairwell and Jill’s fingers curled more tightly around his as she contemplated heading back up the stairs.

Chris emphatically shook his head in disagreement. _You can’t save everyone, Jill,_ he wanted to say, but the sound of a scuffle from above broke his train of thought.

He heard a series of thuds, the sound of something heavy slamming against the metal railing, and he shined his light up the opening between the sets of stairs.

The zombie had fallen over the stair rail and was swiftly tumbling their way, effectively hitting its head on every bit of railing it passed before curling into a pile at the ground floor.

He looked back at her and shrugged before continuing their way down the final set of stairs.

Jill felt as though she was going to vomit when the sight of the mutilated zombie came into view. All of its limbs were broken and it laid on the floor, splayed out like a starfish as it writhed about. Half of its head had been split open to expose tissue and brain matter, but it continued to groan and gnash its yellowed teeth at them in a desperate attempt to find a mouthful of flesh.

Chris paid it no mind as he pushed open the door, stepping over the creature’s crippled arm to enter the lobby.

The thudding of a zombie slowly thrusting itself against the window caught his attention and Jill lowered her head in silence. The shine of the badge pinned to the front of his blood-stained uniform hinted that he had perhaps once been the officer she watched from her apartment just moments ago.

“It’s going to spread like wildfire,” She spoke with a sense of urgency, “They don't know how it's transmitted.”

Chris felt a sense of dread fall over him. Jill was right - they _did_ have some strange, inadvertent responsibility in this mess. He suddenly harbored a bizarre call of duty, a need to somehow communicate what they had learned in the Arklay Mountains and provide support to those in danger.

He was torn between this and his desire to escape with her. Chris looked over at Jill and studied her in the little artificial light that poured in through the window. Even in the darkness he could make out the long curl of her lashes as they fluttered open and closed while she regarded the fallen officer, her full lips pulled into a grim expression. The curve of her nose and cheekbones were highlighted in the light and she simply stood there, watching the zombie beat itself against the window in an attempt to somehow get to them with a sullen expression on her face.

There was no way he'd let anything happen to her. He _couldn't_ let anything happen to her. Chris wouldn't even allow himself to entertain the possibility of losing her and watching her turn into one of those _things,_ pretty blue eyes clouded over and flesh peeling from bone.

He shivered at the thought and approached the front door, moving slowly along the length of the windows that spanned the walls, allowing the zombie to meander along in his wake. Chris met it at the front door and paused to watch it press its face against the glass.

Jill could hardly even register what came next. With a rough shove, Chris pushed the door open, causing the zombie to stumble back. He reached forward to seize it by its hair and yanked the monster forward, forcing it to bend at the waist.

And, before she even realized it, he had its head positioned in the doorway and was beating the ever-living _fuck_ out of it with the door, slamming it open and closed on its head. She heard the crack of bone and the splatter of brain against the tile of the floor and felt bile rise in her throat at the wet, squelching sound.

“No use wasting bullets on one.” Chris explained, a little breathless as he gracelessly dropped the limp creature to the floor. “The sound would just attract more anyway.”

Jill swallowed hard and nodded. It made sense, but she still couldn't shake the morbidity of it all. She felt it would have been a hell of a lot easier if they didn't look _sort of_ like people.

There was no sign of life--or _un_ life--along the stretch of road for as far as they could see. The night air was cool and crisp, a light breeze spritzing through and blowing errant leaves along the length of the pavement. The corpses of two zombies laid out nearby in a large, shared halo of blood.

Chris grimaced as he approached them and looked back at Jill over his shoulder.

“Heads are still intact.” He spoke grimly. It was a warning, she knew, and she quickly found interest in the traffic sign nearby as he delivered a firm, crushing stomp to each of their heads, shattering their skulls.

In the distance, she could make out the anguished groans of the dead and wail of sirens as they echoed through the empty streets of the city.

The police station wasn't far out and their trip was largely uneventful. The front gates were chained closed and Jill looked up at the height of the brick walls that encased the campus with an unimpressed glare.

Chris lifted the heavy padlock that closed the length of the chain and gave it a shake, testing its strength. Jill laughed and approached him, taking the lock in hand and pushing him aside.

“You can't just force your way into _everything_ with brute strength.” She chided, expertly slipping the lockpick into the base of the lock.

She fiddled with it for a couple of seconds, a series of clicks coming from the lock before it snapped open and fell to the ground below.

“Some security.” She mumbled, pulling the chains from the iron gate.

Once inside, she wrapped the chains around the bars of the gate once more and replaced the lock. _Just in case_ , she had insisted.

Within the grounds of the station, a solitary, severed zombie dragged itself across the grass, tearing up the vegetation beneath it as its entrails followed suit.

“Lovely.” Jill grumbled, trying the door to the station. Not surprisingly, it was securely locked, and she kneeled down to study the lock.

Chris sighed and sat on the edge of the stairs leading up to the door and watched the zombie inch along the yard. It hissed and groaned, crippled fingers sinking into the soft dirt as it clenched the ground for leverage in order to weakly pull itself forward.

He buried his face in his hands for a moment, exasperated.

“R-Redfield? Is that you?”

Both Chris and Jill whipped their heads in the direction of the call, bodies stiff in attention. The bright yellow vest was unmistakable and Chris abruptly stood, arms crossed over his chest.

“I'll be damned! Chickenshit Vickers didn't manage to make it out this time around.” Chris sneered in his direction, brow angrily furrowed. “What's the matter? Did your pal Irons steal your escape chopper?”

Brad fumbled for a response and turned his attention towards Jill with a pleading look in his eyes.

“Nah, man, don't try to guilt her with the puppy dog eyes.” Chris laughed. “No one feels sorry for you. You reap what you sow.”

Jill turned her attention back to the lock, not particularly keen on getting involved.

A growl came from down the street, followed by the heavy stomp of feet. Jill looked back over her shoulder at Chris and he raised his handgun as he stared out at the gate.

“I hope you're almost finished.” He spoke quickly and Jill let out a quiet whine as she worked the lockpick. She was about halfway through, she figured, and gave the pick another experimental jiggle in an attempt to push past another pin.

Chris's eyes widened at the sight of the monster that came into view and he roughly tapped Jill on the shoulder.

“Jill, you _have_ to hurry…!”

She looked back and gasped.

At the opposite side of the fence stood a monster reminiscent of the Tyrant, though somehow more disturbing. Instead of the refined, human-like face of the Tyrant they had encountered previously, the monster had a rounded head composed of a grotesque lump of flesh, the right side of its face obscured by a messily stitched flap of skin. Its lips had been cleanly removed to expose teeth and bone, allowing saliva to freely dribble along its chin as it hissed.

She didn't want to find out what the heavy jacket it wore obscured. The quivering, slick, fleshy tentacles that encircled its neck were more than enough to quell her curiosity.

In one fell movement, it ripped the gate off its hinges, causing it to loudly clatter to the ground. Jill felt a sudden surge of energy as her fight-or-flight response kicked in and she turned back to the lock, tunnel visioned as she fumbled the pick.

Chris fired a series of shots, each bullet lodging into the blobby flesh of its face. The creature was undeterred and continued its furious stomp towards the station.

“Motherfucking _shit_!” He hopped off the set of stairs and fired twice, drawing the attention of the monster and forcing it to veer away from Jill's path.

“You want to do something there, S.T.A.R.S.?!” Chris shouted angrily at Brad, who stood on the sideline, frozen in fear.

The creature paused momentarily at Chris's words and turned its head, causing excess flaps of flesh to crinkle and roll with the movement.

“S.T.A.R.S…” It uttered breathily, spraying saliva as it spoke.

It turned towards Brad and beelined for him, enclosing a fist around his throat as it raised him into the air. Brad dangled helplessly within its grip, hands clenching the creature's wrist as a shade of purple bleed into his face, mouth moving swiftly but creating no sound.

The monster moved its face closer to Brad's, unconcerned with the shots Chris sprayed into its back, and it grumbled once more, “S.T.A.R.S.”

Chris dropped the magazine out of the base of his gun and, as he slipped another inside, the wet sound of blood spraying the grass interrupted his movement.

A long, squirming tentacle had jut from beneath the collar of the monster's trenchcoat and was wedged cleanly through Brad's throat, his body now limp within the creature's grasp.

With the final pin of the lock undone, Jill roughly shoved open the doors of the precinct and Chris didn't have to give it a thought. He sprinted after her as the monster threw Brad's body aside and quickly slammed the doors shut, engaging each and every lock he could find.

To each of their surprise, no beating on the door came. Instead, they were met with an unsettling silence as they stared at the double doors, waiting to see them rattle on their hinges.

Slick with sweat, Chris finally released the breath he had been holding. He placed a hand on Jill's shoulder and laughed, his other hand rising to wipe the perspiration from the back of his neck.

“Thanks for saving my life...again.”

Jill wildly raked a hand through her hair, pulling it back from her face as she continued to stare at the door in awe.

“That's...what partners are for.”

Satisfied that the monstrosity had fucked off, Chris turned towards the lobby of the police station, pistol still in hand, and carefully made his way through the room. Once he had secured the area, he returned to the ground floor and found Jill at the front desk, browsing the surveillance footage.

“I don't see _anyone._ ” She said, a tinge of sadness in her voice. “Not a soul...dead or alive.”

Chris propped a hand on the desk and leaned forward to inspect the grainy images on the screens.

“Yeah, well, the security here isn't very extensive. I wouldn't be loitering in a hallway either.”

Jill rose from her seat and crossed her arms over her chest as she pondered their next move.

“I think we should probably hit up weapons storage first to see if there's anything left considering what's...waiting outside.”

She shuddered at the memory of the monster. Chris took her hand in his and gave it an affirming squeeze.

“Hey, you better bet that if that disgusting fuck so much as _looks_ at my woman, I'm gonna beat its ass.”

Jill rolled her eyes and somehow managed to hold in her laughter as she gave his arm a tug, leading him through the office nearby to weapons storage.

Somehow, in the midst of the mayhem, Jill had forgotten that both she and Chris had been effectively excommunicated from the force. No matter how many times she waved her badge in front of the laser reader outside the door, the electronic lock simply wouldn't lift.

Chris peered inside the window panel and gave the door a solid ram with his shoulder, yielding no result.

Jill sighed, “I told you that you can't just break down doors.”

“Doesn't hurt to try.” He countered, flashing her a smile.

“Is that _Chris Redfield_ trying to destroy government property?” A deep, humored voice called, and both Chris and Jill were relieved by the sight of Marvin standing in the hallway behind them.

“Forever and always causing trouble.” Chris gave the lieutenant a sarcastic salute.

“Not on Valentine's watch.” Marvin teased, but his expression quickly grew dark as he shifted subjects. “I'm assuming you know about the...situation.”

“Well, we know about the monsters,” Chris sighed, “Exact same shit as in Arklay.”

“The T-virus.” Jill elaborated and Marvin nodded his head.

“Yeah, the RPD received intel about the T-virus contaminating the water supply. Irons deployed units to help keep the outbreak at bay, but, as you can tell…” Marvin grimaced and shook his head sadly, “Our efforts were less than successful.”

The news riled Chris and he stepped forward with a sullen look on his face. “You do know that Irons is somehow involved with Umbrella, don't you?”

There was an unusual coldness to his voice, almost as if he were testing the other man.

Marvin sighed dejectedly and confessed, “Seems that way...I just don't know _how_.”

A zombie thrust itself against the window nearby, mouth snapping open and shut as it snarled and swayed against the glass slowly. The sudden sound caused Jill to jump and she shook her head in an attempt to ground herself.

“Lieutenant, there are much worse things than zombies out there. We need supplies if we're going to put this infection to rest.”

Marvin gave her a bewildered look.

“You're really gonna go out there and try to _save_ Raccoon City?” His gaze alternated between the two of them as he waited for the punchline to her terrible joke.

The punchline never came and Marvin grabbed her by the shoulders to give her a gentle shake.

“Listen to yourself, Valentine,” He advised, “That's _madness._ This city is beyond saving.”

Marvin pointed an accusatory finger at the zombie that loomed in the window, its face smashed against the glass as a trail of red-tinged slobber smeared across the surface.

“The best thing you can do is take Redfield, get the _fuck_ out of here, and never look back.”

His words caused Jill to flounder. Was he _serious_? He couldn't have been.

“Someone has to try.” She whispered as she watched the zombie begin to furiously bash its head against the window. A spray of blood splattered across the glass, obscuring her view, but the rhythmic _thud_ of bone banging against the hard surface persisted.

* * *

Chris shifted, adjusting the weight of the shotgun that was slung over his shoulder as he stared up at the statue before them.

“You mean to tell me that Irons couldn't afford to fund S.T.A.R.S., but he had the cash for a goddamn _unicorn_ statue?”

Jill squinted as she stared up at the unicorn, its figure cast in bronze and polished to a mirror-like sheen.

“Looks like it.”

She felt her blood boil beneath her skin as she recalled her last interaction with the man. Even now, she imagined him to be locked up in his office, cowering in fear as he waited for the infection to blow over while sacrificing young men to die on the frontlines.

“I ought to shove it right up his fat ass.” Chris spat.

Jill couldn't help but to snort at the mental image.

“Come on,” She insisted, “I'll let you shove it up his ass _after_ we save the world.”

Chris crossed his arms over his chest and openly pouted.

“Do you promise?” He asked and Jill laughed before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I promise.”

She dearly hoped that Irons was already dead if only to spare herself the visual because, really, she wouldn't put it past Chris to actually impale the bastard on the stupid fucking statue.

What an awful and strangely apropos way to die.


	13. Sacrifice

Chris didn't feel confident about what awaited them on Main Street, but he didn't voice his concerns. Jill was determined to assist with the resistance against the undead and part of him wondered if that was some sort of catharsis for her. Her ill-placed sense of responsibility regarding the outbreak both upset and confused him because he just _couldn't_ understand why she’d feel any sense of guilt about what happened in Arklay. They had tried their best to warn the city and no one wanted to listen at their own volition.

_Well, fuck ‘em_ , he figured. _Who’s laughing about ghost stories now?_

After much prodding on Jill’s part, Marvin had divulged that a patrol was stationed outside of Raccoon Mall in an attempt to hold off the influx of zombies. It was a major choke point within in the city where much of the horde would be forced to pass through. Strategically, it seemed that maintaining control of the area would salvage parts of the city.

Naturally, Chris wasn't convinced. Any semblance of trust in the RPD that he had once harbored had been cast aside long ago, but Jill had been a little more optimistic.

The pavement was damp beneath their feet thanks to a light drizzle, the sounds of their boots against the cement met with the groans of the dead and gunfire. Sirens rang out in the distance, accompanied by occasional shouting and screaming. He wasn’t sure how many of the sounds were reality and which were auditory hallucinations born of his past traumatic experiences, but he didn’t particularly care to find out, either.

He watched the slow sway of Jill’s hips as she crept down the center of the street, footsteps careful and light. There was a certain stiffness to her shoulders as she moved, evidence of her tension apparent. Regardless, she continued, automatic shotgun held braced against her chest as she scouted what may lie ahead in the distance.

_Damn_ , she was something, wasn't she? She didn't owe Raccoon City shit--in fact, if anything, they owed _her_ \--and yet here she was, willfully walking to the frontline to risk her life for a bunch of people she hadn't yet and likely wouldn't ever meet.

He admired her. She had a strong moral compass, a clearly defined sense of right and wrong that many lacked. Jill knew what she believed in and she didn’t think twice about standing up for it. It was a quality that few possessed, even amongst S.T.A.R.S., and it was one of many reasons why he respected her so deeply.

“Jill.” He called out after her, causing her to pause at the end of the street and turn to face him.

The autumn breeze picked up, tousling her hair into her face, and when she tucked the errant locks behind her ear, he was met with those bright eyes that never failed to give him something to fight for.

“Chris.”

The corner of her lips turned upwards into a smile and, in some way, it gave him a fleeting sense of reassurance. Maybe Raccoon City wouldn’t be as big of a challenge as he feared, not with Jill Valentine at his side.

“Just…” He paused and swallowed hard, forcing his mind to stand still, lest his imagination run wild with possibilities of what may come, “Be careful, alright?”

He looked down at the grenade launcher strapped to his chest, his boots, the manhole cover below his feet, anything _but_ her.

“We’re partners ‘til the end.” His voice wavered slightly as he reminded her. “I can’t get through it if you aren’t beside me.”

She flashed him a toothy smile and tilted her head to the side.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” She assured and, though Chris felt bubbles form in his chest, it wasn’t _him_ who he was worried about, but there was no way in hell he’d say that aloud.

Around the corner, a lone zombie hobbled through the street, limping on an ankle from which its foot had been severed. Its back was turned towards them as it ambled down the length of the road, kept in line by cars that had been abandoned along either side of the street. It didn’t seem to notice either of them and Chris gestured towards an alleyway that branched off from the main road.

They moved as quietly as they could manage down the street, Chris’s hand tightly wrapped around the grip of his handgun, ready to jump to the offensive if the situation called for it. Jill allowed him to take point and followed closely, hunched close to the ground as she moved behind cars, attempting to stay out of the creature’s line of sight.

A shrill cry echoed from down the street and it caught not only their attention, but the zombie’s as well. It pivoted around on its stub of a leg and faced them directly, chin jutted upwards into the air with its nostrils flaring as though it were attempting to locate them by scent. The creature hissed as it tripped and came crashing to the ground, bones audibly cracking with the rough contact.

And then it _screamed_ , the high-pitched squeal probably resounding through damn near all of Raccoon City. Chris took in a deep breath and moved swiftly, rolling to tackle Jill and force her behind a nearby vehicle. A small gasp escaped her and she looked up at him, effectively pinned between the tall wheel of a Jeep and Chris’s chest with her ass firmly planted on the ground and her bent knees coming to rest along either side of his body.

The march of the undead came, hundreds of uncoordinated footsteps echoing through the street with a cacophony so jarring that it nearly wounded his ears. Chris cradled her to his chest, one hand planted at the middle of her back and the other gently holding her head to his sternum, and he peeked beyond the front of the vehicle with as much stealth as he could muster.

A massive horde of the bastards came strolling through, bodies jerking unceremoniously with their unnatural movements. There were more than he could count, bodies bumping into one another as they hissed and groaned with the burden of death. Even with the grenade launcher that was digging heavily into his back at the moment, he wasn’t confident that they’d be able to overwhelm them.

He rested his chin atop her head and held her tightly, fingers working through the silken strands of her hair slowly. His eyes closed and he took in a breath, appreciating the scent of the jasmine shampoo she often used and trying his best to think of anything but their potential death.

After a while, the footsteps faded into the distance, and he forced himself to break away and survey the street. A few broken, overturned zombies had joined the fray, but it was nothing that the two of them couldn’t handle if push came to shove.

So he stood and offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet with ease.

“I guess that means Raccoon Mall has fallen.” He whispered and Jill nodded tersely.

He pulled her into the alleyway and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he paced the small space.

“I think the city is fucked, Jill. This is beyond what the two of us can manage.” He confessed.

Jill bit her lower lip and worried the smooth flesh between her teeth as she contemplated what came next.

“Then we need to get to the radio tower.” She spoke as if it were the most obvious course of action despite Chris's attempts to somehow telepathically persuade her to skip town with him and leave the city to rot.

“Jill…”

“Come on, Chris,” She placed a hand on her hip and gave him an indignant look, “If Raccoon City is fucked, we need to let someone else know before the entire _country_ gets fucked!”

He supposed that she had a point. Surely Umbrella had a much deeper vendetta than solely destroying Raccoon City.

“Alright,” Chris surrendered with a sigh, “To the comms tower then.”

He soundlessly followed her through the city, taking care to ensure her safety as he lagged behind to survey their surroundings. The screams of the living and rips of gunfire in the distance kept him on edge, the mixture of the sounds overloading his senses. It frustrated him to be unable to make out the more subtle sounds around them and he found that it made him almost paranoid for their safety.

Well, really, _her_ safety.

The sudden burst of a grenade seemed a little too close for comfort and forced Jill to come to an abrupt halt. Chris moved past her, a hand lingering on her upper arm as he passed as an unspoken command for her to stay close behind. He moved close to the wall of a cafe at the corner of the intersection ahead, his back flush against the brick as he sidled to the edge to peer around the corner.

He could see into the small square of downtown Raccoon City, the view partially obstructed by the billowing of smoke from flames that had claimed the grass of the nearby makeshift park area that had once been strategically filled with foliage and benches to provide an escape from the brick and cement of the city. An overturned bus blocked one of the exit points from the square with hastily another barricaded off by bags of sand piled high enough to obstruct the view of what might have lurked behind.

Chris caught sight of a man atop the scaffolding of the nearby clocktower, dressed in tactical gear and rapidly unloading rounds into a swarm of nearby zombies. He appeared to be shouting, though Chris couldn't make out a single word due to the loud hum of his assault rifle and the pained grunts of the dead. The uniform wasn't RPD or any military faction Chris was familiar with, but he honestly didn't give a fuck as to _who_ he was. If push came to shove, he'd likely make excellent zombie fodder.

He turned back around the corner to face Jill.

“There's some joker over there drawing the attention of every damn zombie in Raccoon.” He shrugged, entirely unconcerned with the man's behavior. “So we better double time it to the radio tower before he finally gets eaten.”

Jill's expression morphed from one of confusion to concern and she stood on her tiptoes to peer over Chris's shoulder, eyes wide and lips parted in horror.

“Chris, if we don't help him, he's going to die!”

Chris raised an eyebrow, “And...that's the point. Survival of the fittest, Jill. We have the advantage if we hurry up and _get the fuck out_ while he's distracted.”

Her eyes met his, pale blue irises soft with something that he couldn't quite place. She caught the corner of her lower lip with her teeth as she stared back out at the battle scene before them. He'd seen that look on her a hundred times and Chris realized exactly what it was that haunted her--guilt.

“Jill.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, one traveling to gently tilt her chin in order to force her to face him.

She looked up at him and he wasn't sure if the wetness that sparkled in her eyes was due to the smoke or impending tears.

“We can't save _everyone_.” He spoke softly, bending his knees slightly to bring himself to her eye level. “You-- _we_ have to survive in order to tell the world about Umbrella. He's probably going to die, yeah, but his death will inadvertently save the lives of _thousands_ because it will help us get to the radio tower.”

Chris exhaled slowly, strained by the conversation, “Sacrifice is a part of war. Tactically, it's the best move.”

Jill studied his face in silence and, with one last look at the fight ahead, she nodded and turned away, shifting the weight of her shotgun against her arm.

Chris feared to know what she thought in that moment, but, more specifically, what she thought about _him._ It was cold, he knew, but he had lived and breathed the concept of survival for majority of his life, spanning from the death of his parents to his Air Force days to _now_ , faced with the biohazardous apocalypse.

Yes, sacrifice was a vital concept of survival, but so was _adaptability_. Even the most well-baked plans were prone to failure and this one was no exception. Chris reacted to the sudden, furious stomp of feet before he realized he had heard it, snatching Jill by the wrist and tugging her back towards the fight.

And then he saw it, the creature from before, the one that slaughtered Brad, angrily making its way for them with purpose.

“Fucking... _fuck_.”

Unstrapping the grenade launcher from his back, he began to sprint towards the square where the crowd of zombies had spilled in. Without any warning, he fired into the throng of monsters, taking no caution as he continued towards the bus despite the shower of rotten limbs and bodily fluids that resulted from the blast.

The man atop the bus watched in awe, starstruck by both the flashy entrance and the sheer amount of zombies he had effortlessly managed to clear out.

“Dude...who the h--!”

“I need you to get her over the fucking bus _now_!” Chris shouted, cutting him off as he grabbed Jill by the hand and tugged her in front of him.

She had a confused expression on her face as she looked up at the man and back at Chris who effortlessly lifted her onto his shoulder and pushed her towards the top of the bus without a word. The man extended a hand towards her and she was left with little choice but to take it, throwing her shotgun onto its surface and hoisting herself up onto the top of the bus without much ado.

Panting, Chris turned to face the monster that marched towards them. With the flesh of its mouth peeled away, it seemed to be seething as it clenched its teeth and stared him down with its one eye.

He wondered if it was a Tyrant as poor in combat as the other one had been, but the slither of tentacles from beneath the collar of its trench coat suggested otherwise. Experimentally, he shot at it, grenade hitting it square in the chest and exploding into a cloud of shrapnel and smoke.

It didn't surprise him to watch the creature emerge from the fumes relatively unscathed. He simply loaded another round and fired, once again watching the grenade propel into its chest and burst.

Jill reached for her handgun, shotgun rendered useless by the distance, and began to fire at the monster. The man followed suit, slipping another magazine into his rifle and spraying the monster wish bullets.

With the pop of a third grenade, the creature grunted and stumbled back, finally stunned by the assault.

Chris didn’t hesitate to dash for the bus, catching Jill’s hand and kicking off the side of the bus to propel himself onto the top of it.

"So, uh...who are you guys?” The stranger asked while nervously scratching the back of his head.

“Doesn’t matter,” Chris swiftly answered, looking over the opposite side of the bus at the cleared street, “Come on, Jill.”

She nodded farewell at the man and moved towards Chris, looking out at the path ahead.

“Jill, huh?” He asked, stepping between them to offer a hand, “I’m Carlos.”

If only out of politeness, she took his hand and gave it a swift shake.

“Thanks for the help, Carlos.” She smiled as she released his hand, expression bright and sincere despite the concision in her words.

Chris hopped off the side of the bus and turned back towards it, arms extended into the air to assist Jill with her own descent. She bent at the knees, preparing to leap in suit, but Carlos interrupted her once more.

“Who’s your friend?” He asked, curious.

“ _Partner._ ” Chris hissed in correction, not even bothering to look at the guy.

“Oooh, I get it,” He nudged Jill in the side with his elbow and winked, earning a hard glare, “Don’t worry, _cariño_. I know how to protect a lady too.”

Chris let out a loud groan, openly frustrated.

“She’s a fucking _cop_!” He hissed in exasperation. “And a fucking good one at that.”

Carlos let out a low whistle and braced a hand against his chest, right above his heart. “A lady who knows her way around a weapon? Oi, be still, my heart!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Chris felt the urge to draw his weapon, but resisted. “We have to go, Jill.”

Carlos rolled his eyes.

“My man, if the lady doesn’t want to go, she doesn’t ha--”

“Sorry, Carlos.” Jill forced an apologetic smile, “I really do have to go. Thanks for the help. Please take care of yourself.”

She hopped off the edge of the bus and Chris caught her by the waist to lower her to the ground, the gesture done more for show than anything else. Jill adjusted the backpack that was slung over her shoulder and nodded, prompting Chris to begin his stroll down the street with her in tow.

“So...where are you headed?”

Chris spun around to find Carlos falling into step with Jill and he clenched his jaw, deeply regretting not feeding the man to the horde feet first.

“None of your fucking business.” He spoke coldly.

If it was meant to deter Carlos, he didn’t succeed. Carlos continued to follow them, hands shoved in his pockets as he aimlessly sauntered in their shadow. Chris paused mid-step and turned, teeth gnashed together.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Carlos shrugged. “Strength in numbers, as they say.”

The ear-piercing sound of metal scraping against cement forced Chris into silence and he watched with dread as the bus was pulled away, opening the path behind them. He didn’t have to wait to see the culprit to know it was the monster and instead whipped back around, searching for an exit route.

“Ahh, shit.” Carlos readied his rifle, taking point as the brute came into view.

“ _S.T.A.R.S._ ” The sound of its voice was unnaturally deep, almost panic-inducing, and it stormed towards them.

Carlos fired at it and the creature lifted its hand, fluidly knocking him to the side with a simple thrust of its arm. He grunted as he collided with the pavement, wincing while he reached into a compartment of his tactical vest for another magazine.

Jill readied her stance, shotgun cocked and ready as the monster swept past Carlos to approach her. Chris wasted no time in launching another grenade in its direction but it continued to stalk Jill, closing in on her.

With as much speed as her shotgun would allow, Jill emptied rounds into the creature’s chest, temporarily slowing it but not halting its path. Its close proximity to Jill rendered his grenade launcher useless and Chris drew his pistol, firing into the lumpy flesh at the back of the monster’s head.

About three meters of distance remained between Jill and the creature. Stepping back, she rapidly shoved more shells into her shotgun, having emptied the chamber entirely.

“Jill!” Chris was shouting as he continued to shoot the monster, “Just run!”

She stumbled back, dropping the shotgun in favor of her handgun. After firing a few more shots, she turned away and broke into a sprint.

With a growl, the monster tore at the collar of its trench coat, buttons popping free as the fabric tore open to reveal tendrils of long, squirming tentacles. It shrugged off the jacket and raised an arm into the air, palm facing Jill as she ran.

Chris didn’t think - he _acted_ , spurred by fear. Tearing his knife from its holster, he lunged at the monster, leaping to encircle its neck with his arm and drive the blade deep into the juncture between its shoulder and neck. The monster let out a wail of pain and flinched, but did not fall.

To Chris’s horror, a tentacle slithered along the length of its arm and shot out at Jill like a spear being thrust through the air. He heard her scream before he was able to discern what had happened, mind reeling with panic as he watched the slimy appendage drive through her shoulder.

Jill stumbled forward and landed on her knees, causing the tentacle to tear from her shoulder and retract back into the monster. She pressed a hand to her skin in an attempt to stem the rush of blood that came forth and whimpered, forcing herself to take slow breaths through her mouth to focus on anything _but_ the searing pain that coursed through her.

Chris’s world bled into a curtain of red. He hadn’t even realized he had withdrawn the knife from the creature’s flesh and had begun to stab it repeatedly, lacerating the entire side of its face, neck, and shoulder. It thrashed back and forth, spraying him with its blood and attempting to throw him off of its back before collapsing to the ground.

With the creature pinned between him and the cement, he raised the knife once more, forcing it through the meat at the base of its skull. It was a move meant to deliver death, an action that he hoped would sever its spinal cord and put an end to the fucking thing once and for all.

When he rose, he kicked it in the head, mimicking the movement of punting a soccer ball across a field. Bones cracked as its head twisted, pivoting nearly 180 degrees on its neck, and Chris watched with satisfaction as the slither of the tentacles ceased.

He looked towards Jill and was greeted with the sight of Carlos’s back as he knelt beside her, giving Chris a view of the symbol embroidered onto the back of his tactical vest.

There was no mistaking the red and white of the logo. He fucking _knew_ he should have put that bastard in the ground the moment he saw him.

Chris stormed towards him, Samurai Edge in hand, and kicked him unceremoniously onto the ground. He didn’t give the man a chance to respond before shoving his boot into his chest, pinning him to the pavement as he aimed the barrel of his pistol directly between his eyes.

“Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn’t split your motherfucking head open right god damn _now_!” He seethed, applying enough pressure with the heel of his foot to feel bone crack beneath his weight.

Carlos shouted in pain and Jill attempted to cry out, mouth feeling as though it were stuffed with cotton.

“Chris, what…”

“He’s working for fucking _Umbrella_!” Chris spat, bringing the gun closer to his face.

“Stop!” Carlos waved his hands in the air, “I can explain!”

“You better talk real fuckin’ fast.”

Carlos closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

“I’m just a mercenary, alright? Umbrella hired me to come in and kill all these freaks. The rest of my squad is up at the clock tower.”

He looked over at Jill, who was hunched over the ground, one hand on her shoulder and the other braced against the pavement as she breathed in ragged pants.

“Look, Jill is going to _die_ if we just sit here.” He pointed towards her and Chris lightened the pressure against his chest, expression softening as he watched her. “You can’t get the antidote alone. You’re gonna need my help, so…don’t kill me.”

Chris gave him one final look of disgust before removing his boot from his chest and he moved over to Jill, sitting beside her on the ground.

“Jill, I…”

He pulled her into his lap, slipping his hand beneath hers to apply pressure to her shoulder. The color had drained from her face, skin blanched an unhealthy shade of white, and the heat that radiated from her threatened to burn him at the slightest touch.

“She’s been infected with the T-Virus.” Carlos explained, having pulled himself into a seated position nearby. “That monster...they call it Nemesis. It’s a variant of Tyrant that’s been infected with this weird parasite.”

“I thought you were just a mercenary.” Chris sneered.

“I _am_!” His voice was harsh, frustrated. “They sent me here to kill the monsters. I got a briefing during the flight in.”

Jill shivered in his hold, eyes fluttering open to meet his, and the glassy appearance of her stare scared the shit out of him.

“Chris, if I…” She swallowed thickly, tongue darting out to moisten her lips that had become impossibly dry, “If I become one of those _things_ , you have t--”

“You’re not.”

Chris wasn’t going to even entertain the notion.

“Chris, I’m serious.”

Her voice was almost unrecognizable, raspy and hushed.

“So am I.”

He rose to his feet in a graceful motion, completely unaffected by her added weight to his frame. Chris cradled her against his chest, one arm encircled around her back with the other hooked beneath her knees, and he nodded his head towards Carlos.

“Well? Are you gonna lead the way or not?” He asked expectantly.

Carlos hissed as he stood, chest burning where bone had been splintered.

“Just so you know…” He pointed towards Jill. “I’m only doing this for the foxy lady there, not _you_.”

Chris rolled his eyes and, were he not carrying Jill, he might’ve driven his fist into the fucker’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for doing this :'(


	14. Reverence

There were few things in life that made the final cut for the incredibly brief list of things Chris Redfield feared. He had been a brave child, never one to imagine monsters lurking in his closet and always willing to squash spiders for his mother at her panicked beckoning. After the passing of his parents, he felt fear for the first time--fear of the unknown, the _what happens to me next_?

It was a terror that clung to him well into his adulthood, but the anxiety had almost become a welcome presence for him. There was a familiarity to it at this point, that dark shadow forever lingering in the back corner of his mind. He had first learned to ignore it during his Air Force days and had eventually become incredibly talented at doing so as a cop.

Now, though, it had come back with a vengeance, swallowing him whole and consuming him to the point of hardly being able to function. What the _fuck_ was going to happen to him next? To her? To _them_?

Listening to Jill whimper and gasp in his embrace was more than enough to make him panic. His mind played a hundred different potential scenarios in his head, but he wouldn't let himself consider the one he feared most, the one that ended with his pistol pressed to her skull.

He pulled her closer to his chest, grip tightening just a little.

“Hang in there, Jill.”

Chris spoke softly and with such tenderness that perhaps even Claire wouldn't have recognized his voice.

“You know…” Carlos spoke up, “I didn't even get your name.”

“Doesn't matter what my name is.”

At the sound of the other man's voice, Chris's demeanor instantly shifted. He hardened both physically and mentally, not willing to divulge even the slightest bit of himself to some asshat who was working for Umbrella regardless how remote their connection was.

“Just thought it might help to know your name since I'm putting my life on the line for your woman.”

Though his back was to Carlos, Chris rolled his eyes. Once Jill was safely cured of the T-Virus, he would be sure to break a few more of the fucker’s bones to truly emphasize his hatred for both him and Umbrella.

“Katie.” Chris deadpanned, not even bothering to turn around to gauge his reaction.

Carlos opened his mouth, but faltered, words failing him. Chris’s delivery was so mechanical that, for a moment, he _almost_ believed him.

Before he could summon a proper retort, Chris came to an abrupt halt and looked back at him.

“Fuck off for a minute, guy.”

_“Carlos.”_

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Just get lost for a minute.”

Carlos crossed his arms over his chest, irritated.

“Did you forget that you need my help for this mission, _Katie_?”

Chris huffed and narrowed his eyes, glaring at Carlos.

“No shit, Sherlock. I need to put Jill somewhere safe and I don’t _fucking_ trust you, so be a gentleman and _fuck off_ for a bit.”

Carlos’s stare flitted between Chris and Jill for a moment before he surrendered, throwing his hands up as he stepped backwards to promptly seat himself on the curb nearby.

“Alright, but if I get eaten in the process…”

“You’ll be real fuckin’ sorry if you do, so look alive and pretend you know how to use that thing.” Chris nodded towards the rifle beside him and Carlos sneered.

With one final warning glare, Chris headed around the corner and out of Carlos's line of sight. Internally, he was in a state of panic. Barry and Rebecca were long departed for Europe and Claire was out of town. Who did he have left to entrust Jill’s safety with? Where would he take her?

Taking her with to the hospital was out of the question. There was hardly even a snowball’s chance in hell that the place wasn’t overrun, not with the sudden influx of likely infected patients. In the completely unlikely event that the hospital hadn’t gone to hell in a hand basket, leaving Jill there was equally impossible. Knowing that she was infected, they’d probably subject her to all sorts of tests or...even worse…

Chris refused to think about it any longer. His best bet was leaving her with Marvin, assuming he was still at the precinct and willing to watch over her for a while. The station was only a couple blocks away and the roads had been relatively empty before. He could make it. Really, he _had_ to make it, because there was absolutely no way he was going to take any more help from that fucker than what was absolutely necessary.

He didn’t fucking _want_ to, though. He didn’t want to leave her in the hands of anyone else. Marvin was a decent enough guy, yeah, and he was a hell of a good cop, but _he_ should be the one beside her in a moment like this.

She must have been terrified. God, he hated that. He hated this fucking virus and Umbrella and god damn motherfucking Irons and S.T.A.R.S. and just about anything else that had harmed them in some way. It was all so unnecessary and pointless. Maybe, in another timeline, things could have been so much different...like dinner dates, bouquets of flowers, and getting down on one knee kind of different.

Chris snorted at the thought. Since when was he the kind of guy to think about romance? More importantly, since when was he the kind of guy to even consider the prospect of marriage?

Yeah, Arklay had changed him, but so had she. From the very moment he had first met her, he had been doomed. All it took was for her to waltz into his life in that damn uniform and he was done for. Just one look in those pale blue eyes and he was rendered to all but a lovesick puppy.

How very _not_ Chris-like.

He smiled to himself at the thought. Despite all the bullshit they had endured, it had all been worth it in order to spend time with her. All the suffering, the zombies, the injuries and nightmares...they had all been worth it because of _her_.

And now...what was the point in sticking it to Umbrella if she wasn’t by his side to do it?

Chris felt as though the bottom of his stomach had somehow fallen out. He had wanted so desperately to ignore the possibility, to somehow convince himself that such a terrible thing could never happen, but denial could only get one so far. The rational part of him, the decorated Airman and cop, told him that he had to accept the reality of what could possibly happen.

He felt pinpricks form at the back of his eyes, the heat of tears beginning to well between his eyelids.

Chris Redfield had cried three times in total in his life--the day he was born, the evening his parents passed away, and this very night in which he realized he might lose Jill Valentine in the worst possible way.

Vision blurred and chest aching, he took refuge on a nearby doorstep. Jill remained unconscious, cradled close to his chest and neatly arranged in his lap despite the sheen of sweat that glistened across her skin and the terrifyingly pale color of her flesh.

With a shaky hand, he raised his fingers to her neck, feeling for a pulse that was relievingly present.

_Stop fucking wasting time._ He venomously told himself. _Cry later. Get to the fucking hospital._

“ _Re_ _dfield?_ ”

His attention snapped away from her face to find Kevin standing in the street, a concerned expression on his face that suddenly transmogrified into one of horror.

“Oh shit, is that…”

“Ryman.”

Chris’s voice was alarmingly soft and Kevin strained to make out his words.

“I need you to…” He swallowed hard, clenching his eyes shut to force away tears.

Kevin holstered his handgun and stepped closer, kneeling down at the base of the steps. Gingerly, he placed a hand on Jill’s arm and, even through the thick fabric of his glove, he could feel the heat that practically billowed from her skin.

“I need you to keep her safe, alright?”

Chris couldn’t hold in his sob any longer. It racked through his chest powerfully, causing his entire body to tremble with the force of it. The sound caught Kevin off guard and he looked up at Chris, expression serious.

“With my life.”

The pained expression on Chris’s face didn’t fade.

“She’s...she’s infected and…” He sighed, a watery sound that made Kevin strangely uncomfortable, “...and I have to...there’s an antidote at the hospital…”

Kevin nodded, eyes still glued on Jill's face. The sight was horrifying, to say the least. Jill Valentine, the woman he had known as a force of nature, looked more akin to a corpse than herself. With the color drained from her face, her skin took on a waxy appearance, a feature he had seen one too many times in the morgue.

He respected Chris despite all the shit they had given each other over the years. Though Chris was incredibly hot-headed and undeniably had an issue controlling his ire, he was a phenomenal cop with a heart of gold buried deep beneath a rough crust of stone and soil.

Jill Valentine was quite possibly the best thing that had ever happened to Chris. She provided a fine balance to the very worst parts of him, a soothing presence that helped to quell his fire. Their bond was undeniable, like earth and water, and their work ethic left much to be admired.

He enjoyed her presence as both a colleague and a friend. The idea of losing Jill was difficult to swallow, but the possibility losing her to the virus was something he couldn't even chew.

“I've got this, Chris.”

Kevin spoke confidently, scooping Jill into his own arms with ease. Chris watched for a moment, observing the staggered rise and fall of Jill's chest and the way her head lolled against his shoulder.

“The church is safe - it's a secured rendezvous point for the RPD. I'll take her there and I promise to not let her out of my sight.”

Chris smiled wryly.

“Thanks, Ryman.” He rose to study Jill one final time, “If she...you know…”

Kevin shook his head.

“She won't, Chris. Just get your ass to the hospital.”

Chris took one of Jill’s hands in his own, her fingers limp and failing to curl around his. He held it for a moment before reluctantly pulling away, nodding curtly.

“I’ll see you both soon.”

* * *

 There was something especially unsettling about the stain of blood smeared across the tile of the hospital lobby. The formerly dull, stark white environment had been brought to life with hues of red splattered and smudged along nearly every surface as far as the eye could see. A constellation of glass glittered along the length of the top of the welcome desk, the receiver of the nearby phone swaying slowly against its side, suspended by its cord.

Chris stood near the entrance to the hospital, shotgun slung over his shoulder as he took in his surroundings. The blood had long coagulated and he could only assume it had belonged to the zombies he imagined were ambling elsewhere in the distance, given the muted sound of the groaning.

“Where is this antidote?”

Chris was strictly business, making his way to the hospital map pinned to the bulletin board nearby. It gave surprisingly little indication of where he ought to go, leaving more to the imagination than he would have liked. Frustrated, he turned to face Carlos with an apprehensive look on his face as he waited for the man to answer.

“Well, Umbrella has secretly been conducting research beneath the ground floor of the hospital, so I'd imagine it's there.”

Chris's eyes widened.

“You're telling me that even the _hospital_ was in on this bullshit? Jesus fucking Christ.”

Carlos shrugged.

“Seems like it, but, you know…” He winced before he spoke, preparing for Chris's reaction, “I can't guarantee that it'll work.”

“It'll work.” Chris deadpanned.

He left no opportunity for further discussion and headed to the elevators nearby. Chris jammed the buttons on the panel beside them and received no response, but he wasn't particularly surprised to find that power supply to the elevator had been compromised. There was seldom rest for the wicked.

Chris set down the hallway in search of the stairwell, unconcerned as to whether or not Carlos was in tow.

“You know it's a high security floor, don't you?” Carlos called after him. “You can't just waltz in without some form of clearance.”

With his arm extended to hold open the door to the stairwell, Chris looked back to glare at Carlos.

“Hence why we're heading up to snag someone's identity first.” He rolled his eyes before adding, “It's not my first rodeo, Carter.”

_“Carlos.”_

“Yeah, got it, but…” He pointed a finger at Carlos accusingly, “Since you're Umbrella's lapdog, shouldn't _you_ have clearance?”

“Do you see any ID on me, _Katie_?”

Carlos stretched his arms out at his sides, leaving himself exposed in an exaggerated display.

“And so you remain useless.”

Chris started up the staircase with no hesitation, leaving the annoyed expression on Carlos's face unseen. Truth be told, now that he knew about Umbrella's presence within the hospital, he didn't particularly need the fucker's help any longer. Regardless of what breed of fucked up bio-organisms prowled the hallways of the hospital, Chris was confident that Carlos's presence would do nothing to affect the outcome of any potential fights.

Peering in the window on the doorway of the second floor, Chris could make out the silhouettes of zombies looming in the hallway. He counted nearly a dozen of them - far too many to fuck with. Shaking his head, he continued up the dimly lit stairwell with as noiselessly as he could manage.

The third floor appeared to be empty. Experimentally, Chris pressed his ear against the cool metal of the stairwell door in hopes of auscultating some auditory clue as to what may be creeping about ahead. After a few moments of silence passed, he reached for the handle of the door, pressing it slowly to keep from making too much noise.

The fluorescent light overhead flickered gently, intermittently casting long shadows that danced almost mockingly within his periphery. Pieces of furniture had been overturned, framed images and plaques knocked from the wall where blood had been smeared along its surface. A nurse laid crumpled on the floor, eyes glassy with death and throat roughly torn open, leaving sinews of tendon and sheared blood vessels openly on display.

The nurses’ station had been barricaded from the inside as far as he could tell. Through the cracked glass, he could see an assortment of furniture and random objects stacked high to obscure view from the outside. He wondered if anyone had managed to survive.

Shotgun in hand, he moved slowly down the hallway, eyes darting back and forth to survey every nook and cranny as he progressed. As he moved closer to the station, the rot of death overwhelmed him, assaulting his senses with the foul smell of decay interlaced with the rusty odor of coagulated blood.

Behind him, Carlos audibly gagged and he pressed the back of his palm against his nose and mouth, “ _Dios mio._ ”

Chris waved towards the scene with an open palm. “Compliments of Umbrella. You know, the bitches you're doing dirty work for.”

Carlos lowered his head in shame as Chris moved closer to the station to test the door nearby. Locked, of course, and shattering the glass didn't seem like an effective method of entering. Jill probably would have picked the bitch in mere seconds.

He felt his gut sink as he rounded the corner to the opposite side, but was pleased to find that the opposite door had been forced open. Glass crunched beneath his boots as he approached and he ducked in the doorway, wrinkling his nose and grimacing at the stench within.

The employees who had taken refuge within the station had been slaughtered. Chris found that the soles of his boots were sticky with blood as he maneuvered within the small space, unable to discern which bodies had previously hosted the gore strewn about.

At the sight of a white coat, he lifted his foot to flip over the remnants of the body with the toe of his boot. Beneath it, a soiled lanyard was submerged in a pool of blood, and Chris sighed as he reached for the object.

With the pad of his gloved thumb, he wiped the blood away from the front of the badge to find that the image of the face displayed upon it looked nothing like the massacred man on the floor.

“Doctor Kang, Chief of Internal Medicine.” He read aloud and looked over at Carlos who stood in the doorway, stilled in horror.

“That...should work.”

Carlos turned quickly, removing himself from the grotesque scene. Chris shoved the bloodstained badge into his pocket and exited as well, not particularly keen on spending any additional time around bodies that could possibly reanimate at any moment.

A loud _thud_ echoed from the adjacent wall once he was halfway down the hall and it forced him to halt. Chris gave Carlos a curious look and the other man shrugged, readying his assault rifle. Another _bang_ echoed and the vibration of the sound made Chris realize that it had come from the ventilation shaft high on the wall.

Of _course_ it couldn't have been as easy as it seemed. That would have been far too generous of the universe.

Chris couldn’t have predicted what type of fucked up lab experiment would come out of the vents, but he definitely didn’t expect for it to be _leeches_. They came pouring from the the slits in the vent cover and slithered rapidly along the length of the wall, darting down the hallway to collect in a pool near the nurse who had been slaughtered. Both men stood, dumbfounded, as they watched the parasites gather, swirling in a pool as they gathered.

Suddenly, they rose to form a silhouette that was humanlike in appearance, staggering on two makeshift legs fashioned out of hundreds of leeches stacked upon one another. Instead of moving in their direction, it ambled towards the body nearby, head jerking back and forth roughly before collapsing onto its limbs.

It began to lap at the pool of blood on the floor, movement frantic and unnatural. Chris didn’t take long to ponder the logistics of it all, how the disgusting thing could possibly exist and function. Instead, he pointed towards the stairwell and urged Carlos to follow.

“What the hell was that?” Carlos asked in a harsh whisper as he followed Chris down the staircase.

Chris continued his rapid descent down the stairs, seemingly unfazed.

“Fuck if I know, but we should hurry the hell up while it’s distracted.”

* * *

 Jill lurched forward, rising from the floor as she sat up as best she could. She had woken suddenly, her heart racing so quickly within her chest that she wondered if it was on the verge of bursting. Sweat slicked the back of her neck and she became acutely aware of the heat of her skin, a hand coming up to claw at the neckline of her shirt.

Her skin was burning, irritated, _itchy_. So fucking _itchy._

She began to scratch at her arms, nails grazing along sensitive flesh and leaving trails of white, blanched areas in their wake. Her ministrations increased in speed as she grew increasingly desperate for relief from the frustrating sensation.

God, she was so fucking _itchy_. It was all she could think about - itchy, itchy, _itchy._

Frustrated, she peeled off her sweat-dampened shirt and began to scrape at the nape of her neck and the proximal aspects of her back.

She could smell the burning of the candles nearby, the smoke and scent of wax nearly suffocating. Rising abruptly, she made her way to the altar nearby, nails scraping at her sides as she moved. Her legs felt impossibly heavy and she stumbled, catching herself on the back of a nearby pew.

Why was she in a church? Why the fuck was she so _itchy_?

“Jill?”

She was Jill, yeah. Jill was itchy. So itchy.

“Huh?”

She turned around to face him and Kevin felt the strong hand of fear wrench itself into his chest and take hold of his heart. Jill stood before him in nothing but her snug jeans and a strappy grey sports bra, but what had taken him by surprise was the damage she had done to her skin. Her pale flesh was marred by angry, red markings left behind by her furious scratching.

“Jill, what are you doing?”

He watched her scratch at the side of her neck.

“I’m just so _itchy_.”

Instinctively, he felt for the handgun on his hip, ensuring himself of its presence. Part of him hated himself for volunteering to watch over Jill. In the event that events grew sour, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep again knowing he had put her down. Hell, maybe he wouldn’t even have to worry about it...surely Chris would put an end to his suffering the moment he realized.

“Jill, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

With his heart beating loudly in his ears, Kevin approached her slowly and placed a gloved palm against her upper arm, somewhere between her shoulder and elbow in a gesture meant to be reassuring. Her eyelids snapped open and she looked at him, blue irises dull and sclera glassy.

“I’m just so... _itchy._ ”

Kevin swallowed hard, unsure of how to proceed. With a pained look, he gestured towards the pew beside them.

“Why don’t you sit down, Jill?”

She nodded and moved, nails scraping against the length of her thighs as she sat. Jill ran her fingers through her hair, scratching at her scalp for a moment before shifting her attention to the flesh above her sternum.

Kevin turned his back to her and pulled the pistol from his side, releasing the magazine to count the bullets contained within. Slipping it back into place, he moved towards the altar, eyes clenched shut tightly.

When was the last time he had prayed? Childhood?

He sighed and knelt down beside the altar, pistol still clenched in his hand. Kevin lowered his head, dark hair falling into his face, and he placed the gun down in front of him. With his hands clasped together, he willed his mind into silence before speaking to himself, his internal voice quivering as he mentally uttered,

_Mother Mary, full of grace..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to **Xaori** and my readers as always. I love and appreciate you all! Thank you for sticking with me through this wild ride and sharing your thoughts with me. Your comments, kudos, and bookmarks make my day.
> 
> For a more lighthearted Valenfield, please check out **Forfun100** 's new fic, _She's That Kind of Woman_. I've been her beta reader/cheerleader for this piece and I have to say...it only gets more fun as time goes on. Definitely give it a read if you have time. :)


	15. Brotherhood

The pungent scent of bleach that wafted through the air did little to mask the stench of decay that filled the basement. Someone had made a terrible attempt at cleaning up the gore that littered the hallway and Chris felt his eyes begin to burn as a result of the high concentration of chemical in the air. Coughing into his shoulder, he looked back at Carlos and found him to be equally affected, his own eyes watering on account of the sting of bleach.

Covering his mouth and nose with his hand, Chris continued to move down the hallway, taking care not to step in the smears of blood that decorated the floor. The hasty clean-up job had apparently not been as poorly done as he initially thought. Rather than it being an attempt to clean up the gore, it seemed that the intent was to mask the smell of blood from the creature they had seen earlier. Though he had to confess that it was a clever move, Chris almost would have preferred fighting the monster over having to endure the sensory assault.

If the outbreak had begun in the basement of the hospital, Chris wouldn't have been surprised. The amount of slaughter that had seemingly taken place led him to believe that the assault had been unexpected. There seemed to have been no effort of resistance on the employees’ part, though he supposed that most weren't necessarily well-equipped for handling this type of combat.

The path to the lab was relatively innocuous. It seemed that whatever had killed off majority of the staff had relocated from the area and both Chris and Carlos were grateful of it.

The blue, harsh lighting of the lab was a stark contrast to the dim lighting of the basement's halls and made them both wince upon entry. Using his hand to shield his eyes from the light, Chris squinted as he surveyed his surroundings.

Glass towers lined the perimeter of the room, overwhelming in both stature and the sheer amount of drugs contained within. The stainless steel tables placed in the center of the room were covered in equipment that Chris didn't recognize. He felt uncomfortably out of place in the lab, having not stepped foot in such a scientific environment since high school chemistry.

He headed towards one of the containers and began to scan the contents within, eyes moving slowly over the small labels pasted to each vial. Chris wasn't sure what he expected to find, but he supposed it wouldn't be as simple as locating a syringe on a pedestal that was neatly labeled as _the_ T-virus cure.

The clicking of a keyboard broke his concentration and he turned to watch Carlos fiddle with a nearby computer.

“Hey, _pendejo,_ if you were running an evil underground lab, what would the password to your computer be?”

Carlos had an amused expression on his face and Chris glowered at him. Holding his tongue, he continued his search, palms pressed to the glass. What mattered now was finding the antidote. Once it was safely in his possession, he'd be sure to knock the fuckhead's teeth out.

“Damn, I really thought it'd be 'world domination.’”

Chris rolled his eyes and moved onto the next container, his frustration building. He didn’t have the patience to meticulously search each and every item in the lab and he _certainly_ didn’t have time for Carlos’s antics. Jill’s life was on the line.

Nettled by the morbid reminder, Chris slammed his fist against the glass, causing the contents within to rattle loudly. Carlos jumped in surprise and shot him a hard glare.

“You wanna let that thing know we’re here?”

Chris grunted and ran a hand over his face, halfway hoping the action would wash away the exasperation he felt. Maybe there was no antidote left. After all, _something_ had gone down here and the people involved in the research had likely used it on themselves. With that realization in mind, he began to survey their surroundings with as much scrutiny as possible.

He made his way to the body of a woman stretched out on the floor, clad in a white lab coat. There were no obvious injuries to be seen, but she laid in a pool of crusted up blood with one arm extended outward and the other curled against her chest.

Attempting to dispel the thought of what microorganisms might be crawling all over the dirty tile, Chris grimaced and lowered himself to his hands and knees. He peered beneath the tables and containers nearby, squinting his eyes as he clicked on his flashlight to allow better lighting.

Beneath one of the containers directly adjacent from the woman, he caught the glint of glass reflecting back his light. Moving closer, he laid on his chest, sliding his hand beneath the base of the case as he groped for the object.

Unable to reach the back of the case, he stood and gave Carlos a languid glare.

“Can you help me move this?”

“You _found_ it?”

His voice had an incredulous tone to it and Chris felt his annoyance come back. Furrowing his brow, he forced himself to bite his tongue once more.

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

With much effort, the men managed to slide the container forward, creating enough space behind it for Chris to fumble for the object of interest.

On paper, Chris Redfield had attained a long list of achievements. He had been a decorated airman, an outstanding cop, made S.T.A.R.S. with little effort, and held more accolades for his marksmanship than he could count. Single-handedly, he had raised Claire to become a strong, self-sufficient woman and he had survived the fucking Arklay Mountains with little injury to show.

Yeah, Chris had felt pride in his life...but his past experiences paled pitifully in comparison to _this._ He felt his heart rise in his throat, chest bubbly in celebration as he stared at the label on the vial he had retrieved, its safety cap still intact, proving it to be unused.

He had fucking _found_ it.

Carlos’s eyebrows shot upwards, disappearing beneath the fringe of his hair. He seemed shocked by the relative ease with which Chris had found it and Chris snorted at his reaction. Did the asshole _really_ doubt him? He was the one with _actual_ proficiency.

“Time to go.”

Chris didn’t wait for him as he exited the lab, making his way back towards the stairwell. His skin was buzzing with excitement, hairs standing on end as his heart seemingly swelled with pride. Jill was going to be _alright._ Kevin had her, she was safe, he could reverse everything and they’d all get the _fuck_ out of Raccoon City.

He didn’t stop as he called out, “Hey, Carlos?”

Carlos made a quiet sound of acknowledgement in his throat and Chris winced before speaking. He knew he had been a complete dick and, really, he didn’t care to apologize, but...he knew Jill would have persuaded him to. Jill believed in mercy and second chances and, even though he _didn’t,_ he had to respect that he wouldn’t have found the antidote without Carlos’s tip.

“Thanks for the help.”

His voice was gruff and his words were sharp, almost as if he were ashamed of saying them aloud. Carlos found himself stunned into silence and he dramatically pressed a hand to his chest as though he had been shot even though Chris hadn’t bothered to turn around to see it.

“ _De nada.”_ Carlos paused for a moment before adding, “But I did it for your lady, not for you.”

Chris rolled his eyes but couldn’t contain the fleeting ghost of a smirk that briefly made its way to his face. The weight of the vial in his pocket made him feel downright giddy and he was incredibly to relieved that his self-restraint had paid off. Had he beaten the ever living fuck out of Carlos as originally intended, perhaps he wouldn’t have made it this far. Not that he’d admit that to the asshole. Expressing his gratitude was painful enough.

As with most things in life, nothing worth having came easy, so Chris wasn’t particularly surprised when he heard a loud _thud_ come from the ventilation shaft overhead. The wet, slithering sound of leeches squeezing through the cracks in the vent cover made his stomach turn and he looked back at Carlos, gun in hand.

He began to fire at the leeches, watching each burst into a starburst of mucus-like fluid. Chris was fast and accurate, popping the creatures in quick succession, but the sheer amount of them was overwhelming in comparison to the size of his magazine. Irritated, he reloaded his pistol and began to fire once more as the leeches pooled onto the floor and began to take shape.

“Just go, man!”

Carlos’s shout caught him off guard. At first, he wasn’t sure he had heard it, and he gave Carlos a double take.

“Just get to Jill, okay?” He repeated, waving towards the staggering, humanoid form that now stood between them, “I can handle this.”

Chris furrowed his brow, conflicted with the plan. He didn’t particularly give a shit about the guy, but he felt indebted to him in some way. Helping him was the right thing to do, he guessed. More rather, it was the _Jill_ thing to do. After all, did he even know how to take down Umbrella’s bullshit monsters?

Well, truth be told, he didn’t really know how to himself. Trial and error was all he had to go by, but he assumed his experience was more vast than Carlos’s.

“Dude, _go_!”

Carlos was spraying bullets into the monster now, forcing leeches to fall away in large quantities. The creature was undeterred as the leeches slithered back up its body, filling in the gaps that his bullets left behind.

_Fuck._

It wanted blood, didn’t it? That’s all it came for before. He owed the guy _something._

Pulling his knife from its holster on the side of his thigh, Chris grunted as he sliced open his palm. Squeezing the flesh of the pad of his palm with his opposite hand, he watched blood quickly well to the surface of his skin and forced it to splatter on the ground.

The creature halted its movements and pivoted, immediately turning to face Chris. In a frenzied rush, it bustled towards the trail of blood Chris had left behind and began to lap at the fluid greedily.

Carlos rushed past it as Chris continued to milk blood from the wound, walking backwards down the length of the hallway. The monster was efficiently distracted by the feast, crawling on all fours as it worked its way along the trail Chris had left behind.

Curling his hand closed, Chris shoved open the door to the stairwell and both of the men sprinted from the basement, rushing up the staircase in a heavy clamor of boots. Upon reaching the ground floor, neither hesitated to move nearby benches to block the door to the stairwell.

Having finished their barricade, they looked at one another, chests heaving and skin glistening with sweat. Chris sighed and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand before laughing darkly.

“The fuck did we do that for?” He asked, gesturing towards the door, “It’ll just go under it.”  
  
Carlos chuckled and shrugged, tugging on the collar of his shirt to allow better ventilation to his heated skin. With a smirk, he turned away from Chris and headed towards the exit of the hospital.

“Didn’t think you’d help me out there. Thanks.”

Chris huffed and followed, giving one last look over his shoulder at the door.

“Just to be clear, I only did it for Jill.” He coughed nervously. “It’s what she would have done.”

A slow, steady drizzle had started, saturating the pavement outside of the hospital. Chris looked up at the dark sky and allowed the cool rain to splash over his skin, eyes closed as he hesitated for a moment to allow it to wash away the sheen of sweat.

“I guess this is it then.” Carlos nodded towards Chris. “Gonna regroup with my guys now. Nice doing business with you, _pendejo.”_

Chris snorted and turned on his heel, exposing his back to Carlos.

“Hopefully I won’t see you around.”

Carlos smirked and began to walk in the opposite direction.

“A lady like Jill could do a lot better. Not sure what she sees in you.”

Chris shook his head as he approached the end of the street, calling out one final time before turning the corner.

“Yeah, me neither.”

* * *

 Laying on the cool, polished surface of a wooden pew, Jill twisted and turned. The low candlelight of the church gave her sweat-slicked skin an unhealthy sheen, emphasizing the long, angry marks her nails had left behind. She made a quiet sound in her throat before rolling onto her side, her entire body trembling as she vomited onto the floor.

Kevin winced as he watched her, fingers resting on the grip of his pistol. The wet sound of vomit splashing against the floor made him wrinkle his nose and he averted his gaze, feeling bile rise in his own throat at the sight. With a groan, Jill forced herself to sit upright and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand.

Her skin was still so hot, so _itchy._ She didn’t have the energy to keep scratching. Every movement felt like a chore, her joints aching and muscles screaming in protest with the most minute actions.

“Itchy.” She mumbled, voice weakly trailing off.

Kevin’s expression was soft with sympathy and he spoke quietly.

“I know, Jill. I’m sorry.”

Whether or not she heard him, he didn’t know. She gave no form of acknowledgement as she laid back down on the pew, moaning with pain. Unable to hold out any longer, she began to scratch at the exposed skin of her shoulder, breaking skin. Small pinpricks of blood coursed to the surface, the brightness of it almost staggering in comparison to the ashy tone of her skin. Jill hadn’t noticed and continued to scratch, smearing it along her skin.

She looked over at Kevin, blue eyes hazy and dull in appearance. There was a flicker of something in her gaze, something Kevin recognized, and her voice quivered.

“I’m dying, aren’t I?”

Kevin felt like he truly might have vomited then. Swallowing hard, he moved towards her and sat in the pew in front of hers. One hand remained trained on his pistol as he draped the other along the back of the pew.

“No.” He lied. “Why do you think that?”

She forced a smile as she scratched at the side of her neck, blood trickling down the length of her arm. Were her skin not so waxy and pale, the expression might have brightened up her face.

“You have to kill me.” Her voice was shaky, but she managed to upkeep her wry smile. “Chris won’t be able to do it.”

She might as well have sucker punched him in the gut--the way his body reacted would have been the same. Cringing, Kevin shook his head.

“Jill, you’ll be alright. Chris is coming back.”

Jill opened her mouth to speak but was overcome by another wave of nausea. Tucking her head between her knees, she vomited onto the floor once again.

“Don’t...let me become...one of them.” She mumbled between heaves, shoulders trembling with each retch. “Too itchy.”

Kevin found himself at a crossroads. Killing Jill... _damn,_ he really didn’t want to think about it in detail. She was his colleague, a _friend,_ but it was because of the latter that he owed it to her. He would have asked the same of her if he were the one who had been infected, so the least he could do was grant her final wish. Though he thought highly of Chris, he knew she was right. Chris _wouldn’t_ be able to do it.

“You know Chris will kill me over it, don’t you?” He tried to put as much humor into the question as he could, but Jill smiled sadly and shook her head.

“He’ll be mad, but...he’ll get over it.”

Kevin laughed.

“Jill, I’ve known him for a long time. Trust me when I say this...he will _not_ get over you.”

His words struck her like an arrow to the chest. She felt guilty, so _fucking_ guilty for putting both Kevin and Chris in this situation. Had she listened to Chris in the first place and left Carlos to die, it never would have happened. Had she been more proficient, she wouldn’t have gotten hit.

This was her fault. _All_ of it was her fault. Chris’s suffering, Kevin’s suffering...she was responsible for all of it.

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice was hoarse and she looked away to find interest in the blood that was caked under her nails as she scratched at her back with the opposite hand. Hell, she might scratch herself to death at this rate. At least Kevin would be absolved of the task.

Jill swallowed thickly and looked down at her feet. Suddenly, she found it difficult to look Kevin in the eye and she let out a long, heavy sight.

“You'll take care of him, won't you?”

Kevin wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. Reaching over the back of the pew, he took her hand in his and squeezed it tightly.

“If it comes to that...yes.”

Jill leaned back against the pew in relief and stared up at the ceiling above as she forced her hands to remain idle. It was a terrible position to be in, to know that _this_ would be her legacy. Jill Valentine's story would end with her succumbing to Umbrella's game and leaving both Kevin and Chris with even more trauma than they had.

She had been reckless and _stupid._ Chris was more experienced than she was, so why didn't she listen to him? Why did he give in to her stupidity?

The doors behind them creaked loudly as they were pushed open, but she didn't bother to look behind. Her neck was too stiff, her body too weak, and she halfway hoped it was a zombie to put her out of her own misery, but she recognized the heavy, hurried gait and she clenched her eyes closed.

“Jill…”

She felt Chris's warm hand on her shoulder as he rounded the pew to face her, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. He had kneeled before her and rested a palm against her knee as he took in the sight of her, lips parted slightly in horror.

When she opened her eyes to look at him, she felt incredibly small under his stare. His eyes swept over her body, taking in the damage she had done to herself, and she didn't dare look to assess it herself. Hastily, Chris pulled her into a crushing embrace and cradled her head against the space between his shoulder and neck.

In their close proximity, she could hear the loud, steady thrumming of his heart, its pace quickened in fear. Her fingers found the front of his shirt and she took fistfuls of the fabric, nuzzling closer to him. She wanted to remember this, to remember his warmth and the reassuring beat of his heart. If this was to be her final memory, she could handle death.

All too soon, Chris pulled back from her. He held her by her shoulders and leaned forward to press a quick kiss to her forehead.

“I...found the vaccine.”

His hands were trembling as he fumbled for the vial. Hell, he had no idea what he was doing. Jill was the support on their team, the only one with any semblance of medical training beyond that of basic first aid. He had enough foresight to swipe a syringe before exiting, but he wasn't even sure on how to administer it.

Jill placed her hands atop his, her skin uncharacteristically hot. She took the vial and syringe from him with stiff hands and struggled to pop the safety cap off with her stiff joints. Even as she pulled the viscous liquid into the chamber of the syringe, she had doubts. Would it work? How much did she need? Was it too late?

Recapping the needle, she handed it to Chris and twisted to the side, exposing her shoulder in its entirety.

“Just...here.”

She tapped at the muscle of her upper arm, eyes meeting Kevin's. He didn't have to speak for her to know that he was curious too, unsure as to whether or not the treatment would be successful. Jill narrowed her eyes at him and he nodded. In the event that it didn't work, the deal was still on. Kevin would put her to rest.

“I...are you ready?” Chris asked, popping the cap off the needle and pulling the skin of her arm taut with his opposite hand.

Jill nodded and he cringed, apologizing quietly as he pierced her skin. She inhaled sharply, brows furrowing together at the stinging sensation of the needle digging in. A burning followed as he injected, filling her with medication.

She took in a ragged breath, trying to will her mind to focus on anything but the pain. It coursed through her, radiating down her arm and across her chest. Her heart skipped a beat and she leaned over, bracing her arms against her stomach as the nausea hit once again.

Turning to lean over the back of the pew, she vomited once again. Her breathing came in pants as she gripped the back of the seat, knuckles turning white with the force of her grip.

She felt Chris rake his fingers through her hair as he came to sit beside her, pulling her hair from her face. Jill closed her eyes and focused on his touch as he moved to rub her back assuringly.

“I'm sorry.” She spoke weakly and Chris shook his head.

“It's not your fault, Jill.”

Standing, he moved to lift the shirt she had discarded on the floor and balled it up, laying it at the end of the bench. With his assistance, she moved to lay across the length of the pew, using her shirt as a makeshift pillow.

“Just rest, alright?” He ran his fingertips along the length of her arm, “I'll take care of everything.”

She wanted to open her mouth to protest, but her tongue felt like lead. The world was spinning and she closed her eyes, nodding her head against her better judgment as the darkness of unconsciousness took hold.

* * *

 Kevin stood outside of the room with Chris, the door cracked open just slightly for the both of them to keep an eye trained on Jill. He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded towards her.

“She asked me to kill her.” He confessed.

Chris averted his gaze and regarded Kevin with a bewildered expression. Of _course_ she asked him of that. Jill was always thinking ahead, always the more logical one out of the two. She was methodical and consistently formulated plans, what-if scenarios in case things went awry.

“I'm sorry she put that on you.”

Kevin sighed and shook his head, adjusting his belt that had begun to grow heavy on his hip.

“I would have done it for the both of you.”

Chris nodded solemnly.

“Thanks, Ryman.”

What a bizarre situation to be in, thanking someone for hypothetically killing his...partner? Girlfriend?

Kevin cleared his throat awkwardly.

“What happens next?”

Despite his previous intentions, Chris didn't really give a damn about Umbrella at this point. His vendetta to bring them to justice could wait. For now, his only concern was to escape.

“We get the _fuck_ out of Raccoon City.”

“A- _fucking_ -men to that, Redfield.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I love and appreciate you all. :') I'm so sorry for the slight delay.


	16. Reunion

“Are you crazy?” Chris hissed, having leaned in close to permit her to hear his hushed whisper.

Jill’s jaw was set hard as she looked up at him from her seated position. In the low candlelight provided within the church, her blue eyes were uncharacteristically dark, nearly menacing in appearance as she glared at him. Her stoic expression challenged his and he relented with a sigh, sloppily running his hands through his hair in a defeated gesture.

“Jill, I can’t just leave you here...not _again._ ”

His voice was as soft as the look in his eyes as he studied her, still so pale and frail in appearance even after receiving the antidote. She seemed to have been improving, but it wasn’t enough to put his mind at ease. Jill had just fought off a pretty serious infection and he wasn’t about to willingly let her return to combat in her weakened state. He would be _damned_ if he let that shit happen to her again.

“Chris, I’m more useful out there than I am here. I can help.”

He responded with an emphatic shake of his head, a nonverbal expression of his unwillingness to oblige her. Wordlessly, he moved closer to her, kneeling in front of her to take her hands in his. Her skin was warm now, no longer blisteringly hot, and he took a moment to trace the outline of her knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

“I’m sorry, Jill, but I can’t risk nearly losing you _again._ ”

Chris’s voice was strained, the pain elicited by the thought evident. It was selfish, he knew. Jill was more than capable and he didn’t doubt her abilities. Rather, he doubted himself and his ability to protect her, fearful of committing the same failure that had led her to become infected in the first place.

“What about me, Chris?” Her voice was rough, pitch elevated with anger. “It’s okay for me to potentially lose _you_ while you’re out there saving the world and I twiddle my thumbs within the safety of a church?”

He felt the sting of her words like a slap to the face. Chris was very well aware of the fact that he could be killed in the city, but a childish part of him felt that she’d fare better without him than he would without her. He was absolutely willing to risk his life if it meant keeping her safe.

Chris cupped her face in his palms gingerly, thumbs carefully grazing along the curves of her cheekbones. Her expression remained cool as steel as he studied her, eyes locked with hers in an unspoken battle. He wanted her to back down, to promise him that she’d stay safe within the walls of the church until he returned, but he knew that Jill Valentine never tucked her tail between her legs and limped home.

“Alright.”

He regretted the word from the very moment it rolled off of his tongue, but the bright smile on her face kept him from redacting it.

“But...I swear, Jill, if anything happens to you again, I--”

“It won’t.”

Her hand came to rest atop his as she added, “I promise I’ll take it easy.”

The only response he could manage was the soft, careful press of his lips against hers. Her breath tasted stale and his carried notes of metal from blood, but it didn’t matter at that point. Chris loved her, even like this, and he buried his hands in her hair at the base of her skull to draw her just a little closer.

When their mouths parted, Chris kept their foreheads pressed together with one hand cradling the back of her head and the other seeking hers. He interlaced their fingers together and remained still for a moment, eyes held closed as he listened to the shared rhythm of their breathing.

“Promise me you'll let me lead.” He murmured, his hot breath fanning across her face as he spoke.

Jill hesitated, studying his face. He kept his eyes closed, unresponsive as he waited for her to reply.

“I promise.” She answered shakily and he smiled, pressing one final kiss to the corner of her mouth.

Chris insisted on carrying her backpack, much to Jill's dismay. After reviewing their inventory one last time and ensuring that their weapons were reloaded, Kevin hesitated at the entryway of the church, giving Jill one final pensive glance.

“You sure you're feeling up to this?”

Jill sighed and placed a hand on her hip as she glared at both of her companions. Had she proved herself to be inadequate?

“I'm fine, seriously. Can we just get going?”

The sun was low on the horizon, lazily sinking down beneath the skyline and igniting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Jill wasn't certain how much time had elapsed since the outbreak had occurred, but she was sure she had been out of commission for a while. The streets were decorated with genuine corpses and swarms of zombies alike, vehicles and storefronts looted and destroyed.

They shared an uncomfortable silence as they made their way through the streets, weapons held securely in their grip as they moved soundlessly within the city. The city reeked of fire and gunpowder and Jill rubbed at her eyes, the sensitive tissue irritated by the ash carried in on the wind.

The zombies that lingered in the area were far too crippled to be a threat. Jill watched with morbid fascination as one dragged itself along the pavement, legs bent at unnatural angles with bone exposed. A sinking feeling began to set in her belly and she turned her attention back to the path ahead, catching Chris's eyes as he turned back to observe her.

She knew he had something on his mind by the sullen look on his face, but the sound of radio static brought any potential conversation to a standstill. Kevin reached for his belt to raise the volume of the RPD-issued handheld radio he carried.

“...an--ne...out th--re…”

Chris froze, expression twisted into one of shock. The prospect of another officer surviving wasn't particularly unbelievable and Jill wasn't exactly sure why Chris seemed to be so moved by the attempt at contact.

“...at th--tation...of--cer...wo--ded.”

Kevin's brow furrowed in exasperation and he held the radio close to his face, attempting to respond.

“Poor reception out here, officer. Can you provide a 10-13?”

More static came and the three of them shared apprehensive looks.

“...not a cop...I don't k--ow what...means…”

Chris swiftly snatched the radio from Kevin, his behavior uncharacteristic enough to catch both him and Jill by surprise.

“ _Claire_?”

His hand trembled as he held the radio tightly within his grip and Jill watched him with wide eyes. Chris had told her that Claire didn't live in Raccoon. Why would she be in the city _now_ of all times?

“...oh... _god..._ is-- _Chris?_ ”

Chris let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“Claire, what the fuck? Where are you?”

The rapid pounding of his heart nearly made him faint. It didn't make sense for Claire to be in Raccoon. Why was she here? How did she get a police radio? Was she alright?

“Claire!”

Chris felt sweat begin to bead along his hairline as he waited with bated breath for a response. In that very moment, every possible nightmare of his had come true. Arklay wasn't over and the two women he loved most were at risk. He had nearly lost one and the thought of his baby _sister_ succumbing to a similar fate rattled him to his core.

“...at…--ation.”

“The police station?” Jill asked, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

Though she had not met Claire, Jill was positive that she didn't have any combat experience. From what Chris had told her, she knew...little, honestly. Claire was a college student with an overbearing older brother and two dead parents. What was she doing in Raccoon?

“Claire, listen to me…”

The quiver in his voice was gut-wrenching.

“I need you to be careful and wait there, okay? Hide. Barricade yourself somewhere. It doesn't matter. Just...stay safe. I'm coming to get you.”

He cursed under his breath as he balled his hand into a fist and paced back and forth, mind reeling as he waited for a response. At this rate, he wasn't sure that they'd ever make it out of Raccoon City.

“--kay. I'm wi--h…--cer. He n--ds...medi--l aid.”

Chris shook his head even though she couldn’t see it.

“Claire, I can't hear you, but I need you to do what I say, okay? Tell me you'll wait.”

Kevin appeared to be equally rattled, running his hands through his hair as he turned in the direction of the precinct.

“...okay…”

Chris let out a sigh of relief and lowered the radio from his face, finally allowing himself to take a deep breath. How much time did they have before the zombie burden became overwhelming? How would they escape?

Fuck, they still needed to radio for help.

He let out a strained sound in his frustrated state, grunting under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Kevin could head for the radio tower, but doing so alone might be a death sentence. There was no way in hell he'd leave Jill again and sending her into the depths of the city in her state was the last thing he wanted to do. Though she insisted otherwise, he knew the T-virus had to have taken a toll on her. She must have felt weak.

“Chris.”

The cool tone with which she uttered his name stilled his frantic thoughts and he opened his eyes to meet hers.

“I'll get Claire.” She spoke confidently, determination written on her face with her hard gaze and stiffened jaw.

Chris was absolutely going to die in Raccoon City, but it would occur as a result of a heart attack rather than the hunger of a zombie. The emotional turmoil was far worse than the physical fight against the creatures Umbrella had unleashed and he wasn't sure if it would be Jill or Claire who ultimately led him to his demise.

“Jill, _no._ ”

Fuck the radio tower, fuck the city, and fuck getting help. Chris was so fucking _tired,_ so ready to leave it all behind. The three of them could get Claire and make it out on their own. Once they were safely outside of the city limits, they could worry about telling the story.

Besides, what were the odds that other survivors were around? Hell, even Carlos was probably dead at this point. For all he knew, they were the last ones standing.

His mind was made up.

“We go together.” Chris commanded and both Jill and Kevin knew better than to argue this time around in fear that doing so might have pushed Chris to his breaking point.

* * *

 Jill winced at the sight of half of the gate laying discarded in the grass, metal bent and crippled from the sheer force of Nemesis’s grip. The memory of the creature was enough to cause a phantom burning sensation to arise in her shoulder where the tentacle had previously driven through. Absentmindedly, she brought a hand to her shoulder and palpated the rough edges of the scab beneath the thin fabric of her shirt. It was sure to scar into a permanent reminder of her failure that night.

“Jill.”

Chris gestured towards the front doors to the station and she lowered herself to her knees to pick the lock once again. She made quick work of it this time, pushing the door open with little grace as she let out a sigh of relief. If nothing else, she was still competent in _this._

Her repose was short-lived. Unlike before, several zombies ambled about the lobby of the precinct. Their noisy entry had garnered the attention of one nearby and it groaned, an arm outstretched as it made its way up the short set of stairs to reach them.

Kevin maneuvered around the zombie, grabbing it by its arms and pinning them behind its back. The zombie shrieked, mouth held open to expose its teeth as it snapped at the air in a confused attempt at finding a mouthful of flesh. Chris drew his knife and struck the creature with precision, driving the blade through one of its eyes and presumably into the brain given the way the creature went limp in Kevin’s grip.

Kevin dropped the corpse onto the ground and Jill watched dark red blood pool from beneath its head, rushing onto the tile and over one of the steps. It didn’t bother her the way it had before. In fact, the sight of blood was almost welcome at this point. More blood meant more likely death.

Chris flipped on the radio, the sound of static drawing the attention of another zombie nearby. Jill pulled her own knife and shoved it to the ground, driving the blade through its throat with disturbing ease. The soft tissues gave beneath the pressure and she grimaced as the knife sliced cleanly through, severing the creature’s neck from its shoulders. Disgusted, she looked up at Kevin and he gave her a smirk punctuated with a shrug.

“Shit happens.”

The decapitation didn’t fluster Chris in any way.

“Claire?” He spoke softly into the radio. “We’re here. Where are you?”

“--est...side…”

The three of them glanced towards the west reception area.

“...use o--ice...wind--s...are busted...strong m--sters…”

It couldn’t have been Nemesis. Chris was sure he had killed the fucking thing. He _felt_ the blade sever its spinal cord and, though he wasn’t a genius scientist at Umbrella, he knew that spinal cord injuries were either fatal or led to paralysis. Maybe she was referring to Hunters or Crimson Heads.

“What kind of monsters, Claire?”

Jill slowly padded towards the front desk and leaned over the computer, tapping buttons on the keyboard to cycle through the security camera feeds.

“...ea--ng f--cking bodies...claws...assh--e…--th...p--nch…--eon...”

“This reception is fucking killing me.” Chris grumbled, shaking the radio as if it would somehow improve the quality of the feed.

“Claws?” Jill leaned back against the desk with her arms crossed over her chest, having found nothing but zombies on the security footage. “Hunters?”

“Probably.”

Chris noticed Kevin’s perplexed look and gestured with his hands to illustrate the height of the creatures. “The stupid fucking reptile things with claws that lunge like a motherfucker.”

Kevin shook his head as he adjusted his belt that had become heavy with the amount of weaponry he carried. “Ah, right. Sounds like a real treat.”

“Claire, where on the west side are you?”

“s--me...--rk room?”

The dark room wasn’t far off. Once they passed through the west office, it was a pretty straight shot. Coming back through the precinct to escape would be simple and Chris was grateful for it.

Disposing of a couple more zombies along the way, the trio made their way to the west office. The zombies within had already been cleanly executed with well-placed shots through the head and Chris felt a sense of pride well up from within as he surveyed his little sister’s handiwork.

Kevin whistled softly and gave Chris a celebratory pat on the back.

“Little Claire’s taking after her brother, I see.”

The room was dark and Jill took care to not trip over the corpses as they moved to the opposite side of the room. She hesitated at the exit, ear pressed to the frosted glass of the window on the door as she held a hand up towards the men, calling for silence.

She could make out a faint clicking sound from beyond the door, something foreign that she couldn’t quite place.

“There’s something on the other side.” She spoke solemnly, looking down at her pistol to ensure a bullet was loaded into the chamber.

Chris moved toward to take her wrist into his hand carefully and pulled her away from the door, filling the space she had previously occupied with his own body. He stared hard at the glass as he extended an arm, palm upwards to receive the shotgun Kevin passed to him.

“Quietly.” He hissed and slowly opened the door as Jill’s heartbeat pounded in her ears.

Jill didn’t know what the hell it was that crawled the length of the hallway ahead, but it certainly wasn’t a Hunter. It traveled on all fours, the clicking sound produced by the long, sharp claws it possessed striking the tile floor below. The creature had once been human, she assumed, but it appeared as if its flesh had been stripped away to reveal muscle and bone.

It let out a low hiss and turned, revealing its razor-like teeth and exposed brain. Kevin stepped forward, raising his pistol, but Chris held out an arm to stop him.

“It doesn’t have eyes.” He whispered, voice barely audible.

Whatever it was couldn’t fucking _see._

Chris pointed towards the opposite wall and made his way to it, positioning his body parallel with it as he tiptoed sideways down the length of the hall. Jill kept her eyes trained on the monster, finger hovering above the trigger of her Samurai Edge as she waited for it to react, prepared to put it down if needed.

It was completely unaware of Chris even as he stepped past it, cheeks puffed out as he held his breath. From the opposite side of the hallway, he waved for them to follow and Jill swallowed hard, hesitant of her ability to maneuver past it. Kevin, however, didn’t linger and imitated Chris’s signal, waving once more for her to follow.

She held her breath as she moved across the hall, stepping as lightly as she could manage. The creature made a sound and opened its mouth, allowing an extraordinarily long, tongue-like appendage to slither out. Jill bit her lower lip and grimaced at the sight, halting mid-step in fear that she may somehow alert it.

Sweat was pouring down her back, causing the fabric of her shirt to cling to her body. Her heart rate had not yet slowed and her lungs were burning on account of the shallow breaths she was taking. Fearfully, she took another experimental step, facing the monster as she maneuvered in reverse towards her colleagues.

Once at the foot of the staircase, she felt her heart leap within her chest in celebration. The creature moved down the hallway and out of her line of sight, inspiring a false sense of security. Turning towards the dark room, she followed Chris with Kevin in tow.

“Claire?” Chris whispered gruffly in warning before pushing open the door.

Light from the hallway poured into the room, providing a harsh contrast to the darkness Claire had grown accustomed to while taking refuge within it. With a groan, she shielded her eyes with the back of her forearm, obscuring her view of the three of them as they entered. Chris gave her no caution as he flipped on the light switch, filling the room with fluorescent light.

“Chris, what the fuck?”

Claire sat on the floor of the dark room, back pressed to the wall and knees bent towards her chest. As she moved her arm away from her face, Jill was instantly made aware of the resemblances between Claire and her brother. There was absolutely no mistaking that the girl was Chris’s sister, not with the nearly identical slope to her nose and the fiery look in her eyes.

Her companion, however, was unexpected. Beside her, a man was slumped against the wall, his blonde hair hanging in his eyes as he pressed a wadded up jacket to his chest. The color in his face had drained away, leaving his lips extraordinarily pale, and he looked up at Jill with a lifeless expression in his light eyes.

Jill almost gasped at the size of the gash that crossed the expanse of his chest. Despite the ballistics vest he wore, whatever had wounded him had managed to tear through to the skin. Blood stained the dark color of his uniform and continued to gush freely from the wound.

He grunted and nodded weakly towards the three of them.

“You’re...Ryman, right?”

His voice was strained as he attempted to speak through the pain. Kevin raised an eyebrow as he took in the sight of the man, trying his best to recognize him in his state.

“Uh, yeah…” He scratched at the back of his head awkward. “You’re…”

 _Practically dead,_ Jill thought bitterly.

“Kennedy.” He gritted out as Claire took the jacket from him to apply stronger pressure to the wound. “Leon Kennedy.”

Kevin’s eyes widened in recognition at the name.

“Rookie?"

Leon laughed and nodded, swallowing hard as he looked over at Claire. She frowned hard as she used both hands to press against his chest in an attempt to stem the bleeding.

“What the fuck happened?” Chris demanded as he moved in closer to the pair and kneeled down beside Claire, placing an arm on her shoulder to pull her back from Leon in order to assess her for injuries. In response, she clicked her tongue and moved back towards Leon to continue her attempt at first aid.

“I’m fine, Chris.” She spat, annoyed with her brother’s concern. “But Leon needs help.”

Chris looked back over his shoulder at Jill.

“I...he probably needs stitches.” Jill thought it sounded right in her head. Honestly, it was the only solution she could come up with in such a dire situation. The medical supplies in the precinct weren’t particularly advanced and she certainly was no surgeon.

“I’ll get Rebecca’s kit.” Chris declared, moving to a standing position.

Claire nodded towards a storage chest nearby, not wanting to let up on the pressure she was applying to his chest.

“I think I already snagged it.” She spoke sheepishly, “I just...don’t know how to use it.”

Jill lifted the lid of the chest and began to rummage through it as she listened to Kevin’s questioning.

“What happened?”

“This fucking monster hit him.” Claire spoke frantically, shaking her head in near disbelief. “With this eyeball huge arm and this goddamn claw.”

Jill winced at the mental image as she retrieved the familiar pack from the bottom of the chest. It sounded like a Tyrant of some sort, but she didn’t necessarily want to know what else was roaming the streets of Raccoon City. Nemesis had been more than enough.

She found a set of prolene sutures and antiseptic in the first aid kit and ordered for Chris to help remove the remains of Leon’s shirt.

Chris unsheathed his knife and sliced through the fabric with little effort, revealing the wound in its entirety. It was a clean cut and Jill assumed one swipe was all it had taken to inflict the damage. She wasn’t sure how deep the laceration was and, honestly, she wasn’t even sure that her technique would be efficient. Regardless, she had to try.

“I’m sorry.” She spoke apologetically. “It’s...going to hurt.”

She opened the package to reveal the sharp, curved needle contained within and added, “Maybe a lot.”

The disinfectant stung, but it didn’t prepare Leon for the pinch and burn that came each time the needle drove through his skin. He grunted and grit his teeth as Claire gripped his hand tightly, a cold sweat breaking out along the surface of his skin as a result of both the pain and the blood loss. The claw he had taken hurt a hell of a lot less than _this._

By the time Jill finished, he felt woozy. He was lightheaded even as Chris hoisted him to his feet and he braced a hand against the wall, regaining his balance. As Claire gave him a concerned look, he forced a smile and lied, “I’m fine.”

“There’s still a...thing in the hallway.” Jill advised as Chris reached for the door. “We have to be quiet.”

“Oh, one of the tongue things?” Claire asked as though it were a commonplace encounter and Chris gave her a heated look.

“How many of these things have you fought?” He asked and Claire paused, pressing a finger to her chin as she attempted to tally the count in her head. Before waiting to hear her response, he let out an exasperated sigh.

“Claire, I told you not to fucking come.”

Claire was unaffected by Chris’s apparent rage and shrugged, brushing him off with flippancy that only a younger sister could possess.

“Yeah, you’re one to talk. Such a rule follower.” She rolled her eyes and moved closer to the door, resting her shoulder up against it. “I came to see you and now we’re all here and wow, this shit is all very fucked up, so can we please just go?”

Kevin snickered under his breath as Claire pushed open the door.

They stood still for a moment, listening for the sound of the monster ahead, but were met with silence. The odds of it opening doors were slim and Jill wondered where the _hell_ it could have possibly gone. The shotgun was now within her possession and she held it at her hip, peering down the length of the hall to catch a glimpse of the creature.

Nothing.

They moved quietly down the hall in close proximity with Kevin taking the rear and Chris close behind Jill. Claire remained beside Leon and she watched him with a worried eye, fearful that he may succumb to his injury at any moment.

Jill nearly screamed in surprise as the door to the nearby safety deposit room swung open. The figure on the other side ducked through the opening and entered the hallway, standing at its full height that easily dwarfed even Chris.

It was a fucking Tyrant, of that she was certain. The Tyrant regarded them with a stoic expression, mouth held closed in a grim line as it began to stomp in their direction with heavy footfalls.

Jill acted on impulse and began to unload shotgun rounds into the creature, but it wasn’t enough to even so much as slow it down. It powered through her shots and reeled back an arm to deliver a punch. Jill ducked beneath its arm and rolled forward, turning back just in time to see Chris catch the blow with his shoulder. It sent him flying backwards and he collided into Kevin who managed to catch him and prevent him from tumbling to the ground.

“Oh, fucking hell…”

A loud shriek came and Jill watched the blind monster from before soar over her head, pinning Leon to the ground. He struggled against it, pushing back on its face and neck in an attempt to maintain distance, but it lifted an arm into the air in preparation to strike.

Jill didn’t realize what had happened before she had already done it. She dove at the monster, shoving it off Leon and into the nearby wall. Without hesitation, she shot the creature--once, twice, and then a third time until it writhed on the floor, muscles spasming in its final moments.

Glancing down the hallway, she watched Claire and Kevin make their way up the stairs with Chris in tow. He stopped at the landing and fired at the Tyrant as he shouted, “Jill, just _go!_ We’ll meet up with you!”

God, she didn’t want to, but she didn't have a choice. She promised to let him lead and there was absolutely no way she was going to get around the Tyrant. Reluctantly, she watched it follow the three up the staircase, stomping heavily in pursuit of them.

Jill turned to look at Leon who was still splayed on the ground, wincing as he pulled himself into a kneeling position in order to stand.

“Well...it looks like it’s just you and me for now.”

For how much longer, she didn’t know. Her only wish was for both Claire and Chris to survive because, with his sister, he’d be alright.

She could rest easy knowing he had Claire to lean on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all so much. :') It dawned on me today that this story is pretty much...never going to end, so I hope you all brought snacks for the long haul. A huge thanks to Xaori as always for being my fanfic wife and acting as a human filter for all of my half-baked plot ideas. Hopefully, our heroes make it out of Raccoon City soon so Chris and Jill can spend some quality time together and cry about all the dumb shit I've forced them to endure.


	17. Separated

Jill couldn’t imagine a scenario in which both of them made it out of Raccoon City alive. As she assisted Leon into one of the chairs in the west office, she forced herself not to grimace at the ashen color of his face or the sweat that slicked his skin. It seemed as though time might have been running out for him and she wondered what happened to someone after they’d been slashed open by the creature Claire had described. Would she have to put him down? It wasn’t a possibility that she wanted to consider.

She pulled his handgun from its holster at his side and released the magazine, counting the number of rounds he had left before slipping it back into place. Jill took his hand in hers and placed the pistol in his hand, manually curling his fingers around it herself to form a weak grip.

“Wait here.” She insisted, waving towards the door that led back to the main lobby. “I’m going to check it out.”

Leon nodded curtly, teeth gritted together as he shifted in his seat, causing muscle in his chest to tug at the fresh wound.

Jill hesitated at the door with her ear pressed against the wooden surface as she strained to make out any sort of audible clue as to what waited ahead. She recognized the groan of the undead, but not much else. There was no stomping, no clicking of claws, no cursing and gunfire.

She pushed open the door as quietly as she could manage, allowing a thin sliver of light to pour into the room. Finding nothing in her line of sight, she pushed it open more fully and immediately felt her stomach sink.

The lobby was full of zombies, six alone within the vicinity of the exit. Cursing under her breath, she pulled the door closed and looked back at Leon with a dismal expression.

“That bad, huh?” He laughed, not out of humor, but as a result of the incredulousness of the situation they had all managed to get themselves into.

“We’ll find another way.” Jill insisted, but he shook his head.

“The safest path is to get to the parking garage. There’s a...hidden passage.” He pointed back at the lobby. “The goddess statue.”

Well, confusion _was_ one of the manifestations of hemorrhagic shock.

Leon must have caught a glimpse of her look of disbelief because he held up his hands defensively and stuttered, “I-I know it sounds stupid, but...i-it’s true, I swear. I didn’t believe it myself at first, but…”

He rifled around in the pack on his leg and offered the object he retrieved out of it to her. Jill moved towards the back room of the office in order to see it in better lighting and she nearly burst into laughter. She had seen this object before, a metal disc engraved with the image of a unicorn that once sat at the base of that stupid fucking statue.

“It’s the last key I needed to open it.” Leon explained. “I was almost done, but that monster got in my way.”

Jill turned the object over in her palm a couple of times as she mulled the idea over in her head. Even though she had walked past the statue about a thousand times while at work, she couldn’t picture the finer details of it in her mind. Maybe it really could have been some over-the-top, cliche, horror villain-style secret passage.

“Alright.” She gripped the medallion tightly and looked back at the door leading to the lobby. "I'll open it and then come to get you."

At Leon’s nod of agreement, she carefully pushed the door open once more and slipped out the small opening she had created. Shutting it behind her, she leaned against it and took in a slow, deep breath as she assessed the lobby in its entirety. The shutter to the eastern portion of the station had been forced open and a large crowd of zombies meandered nearby, blocking off the exit to the courtyard as she had expected. A few of them ambled about upstairs, but the path to the statue was relatively wide open.

Jill thought about Chris, Kevin, and Claire. Was she doing the right thing? Should she have gone back after them? Were they _alive_? It wasn’t the time to wonder, she knew, but she couldn’t just abandon them at the station. Leon wouldn’t be able to run around the halls in pursuit of them, but there had to have been _something_ she could do.

The glint of light reflecting off of the pool of blood from the zombie they had slain came into her periphery and she swallowed hard at the morbid thoughts that came to mind. The original plan was to return to the lobby and, if that’s where they were headed, the best thing she could do was communicate with them. Zombie blood would work as effective, albeit disgusting, paint.

Jill grimaced as she crouched and crept her way across the lobby to the gore nearby. The pool was still damp as she dipped her fingers into it while she kept her eyes fixed on the zombies nearby to ensure they hadn’t been alerted by the movement. Hastily, she moved back to the western wall and did her best to scribble on the wall nearby.

Wiping her hands off on her pants, she moved to the statue and noted the three slotted openings at its base. Somehow, she hadn’t noticed them before, and she hesitated before dropping the final plate into its respective slot. She wasn’t sure what would happen, but she assumed it wouldn’t be particularly quiet.

With one final, deep breath to prepare herself, Jill dropped the medal into the slot. Gears began to turn as the statue began to click and creak, drawing the attention of the monsters nearby. A few began to stumble in her direction and, for the sake of conserving ammo, she darted back to the west office and closed the door behind her.

Leon straightened himself out in his chair, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Did it work?” He whispered and Jill nodded.

“We just need to wait for the excitement to die down.”

As they waited, Jill searched through the drawers of the desks nearby. She collected a couple of staplers and helped Leon rise to his feet to drag him to the door.

“Don’t worry about me.” She commanded him, voice serious and low. “I’m going to be fine. You just need to make a break for it.”

Leon winced at the order, but nodded his head in understanding. He wasn't the type of man to leave anyone behind, but he wasn't in a position to argue.

With Leon on her heels, Jill pushed the door ajar and returned into the lobby. She reeled her arm back and tossed the stapler across the room with as much force as she could, causing it to clatter loudly against the tile near the entrance to the precinct. A couple of zombies began to tread towards it and she threw a second stapler for good measure.

Leon was halfway down the staircase that had been revealed by the statue and she followed after him with haste. They didn't linger in the office area that followed but instead beelined for the elevator nearby to head to the floor below.

Within the safety of the cab, Jill leaned back against the wall and tilted her head upwards, letting the artificial light bathe her face in warmth as she breathed in slowly. She hadn’t expected for their escape to occur so smoothly and was relieved to have made it through the lobby unscathed.

Though he assumed he wasn’t particularly easy on the eyes himself, it was within the brightly lit elevator that Leon realized Jill looked like hell. The dark half-moons that had formed beneath her eyes and the splatters of dirt and blood that stained her skin made her seem unnaturally pale. Her blue shirt was stained and torn, the boatneck cut of her collar revealing deep, red welts and scratches along her body. One of her shoulders hang lower than the other, the fabric of her shirt torn open to show hints of the puncture wound beneath.

Claire was impressively talented for a civilian, but Jill carried herself with more poise. The comfort with which she handled a firearm spoke of practiced experience that she couldn’t have mastered during the Raccoon Incident and he wondered just what sort of background she had.

“You’re a cop?” He asked and Jill smiled sadly.

“I guess I used to be.” She laughed bitterly. “S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team.”

Leon did his best to hide his surprise as the elevator came to a stop. The tunnels below the station were eerie, poorly lit with flickering yellow lights and dripping pipes that created faint, unsettling echoes that rattled throughout. Though they were both grateful for the stillness below, the lack of life was still strangely off-putting.

"Do you think you can manage it?" Jill asked once they had made it to the end of the passageway.

She stood at the foot of a ladder and peered upwards at the manhole that blocked the exit. Leon squinted and stared up at it from beside her as he absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder.

"Only one way to find out."

He smiled ruefully as he spoke and Jill winced at the thought of him ascending the ladder with his injuries. Nonetheless, she saw no better alternative. She gave him a long look before climbing the ladder herself, taking on the burden of lifting the heavy manhole cover. Though her own shoulder was injured, she grit her teeth through the pain as she pressed at the metal with both palms, grunting as she finally shifted it out of its position in order to allow light to filter down over them.

Jill peeked over the edge of the opening to survey their surroundings. From what she could see, the parking garage appeared to be empty and she let out a sigh of relief as she pulled herself from the hole and peered back down at Leon as he maneuvered up the ladder. With each rung that he climbed, he hesitated, face twisted into a grimace as he worked through the pain. After a while, he managed to meet her at the top, his skin slick with sweat. She offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet as best she could, stumbling back as he rose as a result of his weight.

The two of them performed a quick sweep of the area to confirm that they were, in fact, alone before deliberating how to proceed.

“Did you park here?” Jill asked, pointing at the shutter that was lowered. A parking ticket was required to raise the metal grate that barred off their entry to the side street behind the station.

“I didn’t.” He answered solemnly, coming to stand beside her to study the system in hopes of finding some way to bypass it.

Jill leaned against the nearby wall and pinched the bridge of her nose in thought, picturing the layout of the police station in her mind to determine the best route she could follow to pull a parking ticket from outside. The threat of zombies in the front lobby was too great, and there was always the possibility of running into the Tyrant or more of those blind...things.

She let out a sigh of frustration and looked up at the cement of the ceiling above.

“I can try to make my way outside.” Her voice quivered slightly as she spoke. “Pull a parking ticket and raise the shutter so everyone can escape safely.”

Leon openly balked at the suggestion, eyes wide and lips parted in horror as he struggled to comprehend her reasoning with no luck.

“That’s a death sentence!” He vehemently shook his head in opposition. “We can find another way.”

Jill wondered if Chris could lift it.

* * *

 “Are we _really_ hiding from this thing?” Claire asked, her annoyance evident in the tone of her voice.

Within the dark, cramped space of the linen room, Chris gave her a pointed look.

“As much as I would _love_ to drop this loud ass son-of-a-bitch, we don’t have the time or resources to waste on it.”

Kevin nodded in agreement as he absentmindedly patted the pouch on his side that had been made light by the amount of handgun rounds he had wasted on the monster. The slamming of doors and stomping of feet was unsettlingly close by and he leaned against the wall nearby, tapping his foot in impatience as they waited for their pursuer to pass them over. Chris stood adjacent the door and tightly gripped a flash grenade in preparation for the off chance that the Tyrant _did_ locate them.

“Do you think Jill and Leon are okay?” Claire whispered as she watched her feet dangle over the edge of the washing machine she had taken a seat on.

“Of _course_ they’re okay.” Chris’s response came harshly, almost as if he were offended that Claire would even suggest that the possibility that they weren’t.

Claire leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes in both exhaustion and thought. Chris remained at attention, his gaze fixed on the doorknob for even the slightest hint of movement.

"How did you meet this guy anyway?" He hissed, irritated by the apparent closeness between his sister and some guy he hadn't ever met.

“Well, I was on my way to find _you_ and had to stop for gas when this goddamn zombie came out of nowhere and Leon saved my life,” She hissed, “Like damn, Chris...you could have warned me about the zombies.”

Kevin snickered under his breath before pitching in, seizing the opportunity to pick at Chris.

“Wait a minute, Redfield,” He interrupted, “You told _me_ about it and not your baby sister?”

“You told _Kevin_?!” Claire nearly shrieked in disbelief. “You told _Kevin_ and not me?”

Chris buried his face in his hands and sighed. Was it truly such a crime to be concerned with his sister’s safety?

The muffled sound of a door being slammed was barely audible in the distance and he pocketed the grenade before taking his pistol in hand. Nodding towards the door, he gave his companions a hard look and gruffly suggested, “I think it’s time to get going.”

Much to his relief, the conversation was abandoned for the time being. Claire shifted into professionalism as she hopped off the edge of washing machine and popped open the cylinder of her revolver in order to ensure that it was loaded to its max capacity. Satisfied, she flicked it shut and fell into step behind Kevin as Chris pushed open the door.

They headed through the library to reach the second floor of the lobby and Claire gripped the edge of the nearby banister to peer down into the level below. Seeing no sign of Leon or Jill, her breath hitched in her throat and she turned to look back at Kevin and Chris with her lower lip anxiously caught between her teeth.

“They’re _fine._ ” Chris assured her, having sensed her worry, though he wasn’t entirely sure that his claim convinced even himself.

There were more zombies within the lobby than he would have liked to deal with. They simply didn’t have the ammo or time to waste and he let out a hard sigh before gesturing Claire to stand back. With little warning, he broke into a sprint and rammed a nearby zombie with his shoulder, causing it to flip over the edge of the bannister and violently splatter against the floor below.

Its landing drew the attention of some of the nearby undead mingling about on the lower level and Chris waved for his companions to follow as he quickly moved down the staircase. He made it halfway down the stretch of stairs before he noticed the morbid graffiti that had been scrawled across the western wall, the stain of red harshly standing out against the beige tile.

**PARK DECK - STATUE**

The scrawl was punctuated with a rough sketch of a female stick figure donning a halo and Chris paused, turning back to give Claire and Kevin a perplexed look. Claire shrugged and Kevin squinted hard, craning his neck a little to make out the sloppy letters.

“Cute...I guess?” He whispered, earning a harsh elbow to the side from Claire.

“What the hell does it _mean_?” She demanded and Kevin shrugged.

As soon as he made it to the bottom of the staircase, Chris realized something had changed. The slate in front of the statue that stood in the center of the lobby had been altered, but for what purpose, he wasn’t sure. He kneeled at the base of the statue and pressed his hand to the medallions that had been inserted into the plate and he wasn’t able to contain his smirk as he noticed the _fucking_ unicorn.

“What is this?” He asked, attention fixed on Kevin.

Kevin looked back at the writing on the wall and threw up his hands in a display of confusion as he conjectured, “Must be the stick figure with the tits.”

Claire pressed her palms to the closed grate and peered into the darkness below.

“Does it go underground?” She cocked her head to the side, auburn ponytail swaying with the movement. “It must. Leon mentioned this.”

Chris and Kevin exchanged a look, both of them equally puzzled by the mystery of the statue. In all their combined years of service, neither had given the statue a second glance. Was it possible that it was concealing an underground passage? For what purpose?

A zombie had roamed their way, its mouth parted to expose yellow, blood-stained teeth. Its eyes were milky and its mouth had been split halfway to its cheek, allowing its tongue to loll about at an awkward angle. Chris seized Claire by the shoulder and ripped her away from the statue, increasing the distance between her and the creature as he pulled his knife.

Kevin turned to find another zombie closing in, a fallen officer who he didn’t recognize. A constellation of bullet holes marred its front, piercing its uniform, neck, and jaw. The wounds did nothing to deter it and it reached out to snatch at the empty air, desperate for contact with human flesh.

Chris jabbed his knife into the neck of the first zombie and grimaced as blood began to gush over the hilt of his blade and his hand. The monster seemingly felt no pain, completely unresponsive to the severing of its neck as it continued to groan and lash out in an attempt to grab hold of Chris.  Meanwhile, Kevin shoved the former officer to the ground and stomped down on its chest, pinning it between the floor and his boot. Claire watched in horror as he applied pressure, causing bone to crack audibly beneath the sole of his foot.

As Chris shoved the limp corpse away, two other zombies drew in close. He looked back over his shoulder as he sheathed his knife and regrettably drew his Samurai Edge.

“We have to go through the east side to get to the parking garage.” He pointed towards the open shutter on the opposite side of the room.

Claire swallowed hard and Kevin aimed for the restrained zombie’s forehead.

“Make sure you get them in the head.” Chris warned and the first gunshot echoed throughout the lobby as Kevin painted the waxed floor with the former officer’s brains.

He had expected it to draw the attention of the undead, but the loud stomping of the Tyrant from before came into earshot. Cursing under his breath, he expertly fired between the two zombies, piercing both through the skull without hesitation. Reaching back for Claire’s wrist, he gave it a tug, and the three of them began to hurry through the lobby.

Claire had trouble keeping up with the mayhem. She clenched her revolver with a trembling hand, but Chris and Kevin had held her sandwiched between them and managed to keep the walking dead at bay. Never once did she have to fire in the lobby and, though she had no problem dropping a zombie without hesitation, she wasn’t sure that her skills would match up to those of her companions. As embarrassed as she was to admit it, most of her headshots had come after crippling the bastards with well-placed shots to the knees.

The hallway ahead was enveloped in darkness save for the faint, fluorescent glow of the face of a vending machine in the distance. Once they passed through the doorway, Kevin turned to smash buttons on the panel on the wall, forcing the metal shutter to drop. Just before it managed to reach the ground, an arm extended blow it and Chris wasted no time in firing a bullet cleanly through the hand, causing it to retract back and allow the shutter to close entirely.

Save the stomping in the distance, the eastern half of the station was ominously silent.

Claire let out a strained breath and shoved her revolver back into the holster on her thigh to tighten the band that held her ponytail together. Slowly, her eyes began to adjust to the darkness ahead and she swore she could make out an unnervingly massive pool of blood in the distance.

“Stay sharp.” Chris barked and began to make his way to the nearby door to the office.

He hoped to be able to cut through the roomy office and avoid the twisting, tight space of the hallway. Much to his dismay, as he turned the knob, Chris found that it gave no give, and a heavy sense of dread began to blanket him.

Chris wondered if Jill could pick it.

* * *

 Jill’s heart pounded in the base of her throat as she sized up the woman who stood in the center of the parking garage, her eyes concealed by a pair of impossibly dark shades. She stood with an air of confidence, arms bent with her gloved palms lazily exposed to the air in an attempt to appear unarmed.

Leon gritted his teeth as he held his weapon at point, Jill’s own fingers slick around the grip of her pistol on account of her sweat. Where the hell had this woman come from? Why was she _alone_ in this zombie-infested precinct? How was she so perfectly put together in the midst of all the sudden chaos?

“I’m no threat.” The woman spoke in a sedate manner, her head tilted to the side as she seemingly surveyed the pair before her.

“No offense, but everything is a threat.” Leon challenged, stiffening his hold on his handgun. “Who are you?”

The woman remained still and composed as she entertained his questioning, “FBI. I was dispatched to investigate Chief Irons’ reports of strange activity within the city, but it seems that I was...too late.”

Jill’s jaw tightened as she bore holes into the woman with her hard glare. How could anyone but Umbrella have known about the outbreak? Why the hell would Irons have disbanded S.T.A.R.S. only to turn to the FBI?

“Bullshit.” She spat, taking a step closer to the woman. “Irons was involved. Why would he risk alerting the FBI and exposing himself?”

The stranger shrugged as she pulled her perfectly painted lips into a coy smile.

“I’m simply following orders.” She insisted.

Leon raised an eyebrow and nodded towards the woman, “Any ID on you?”

Jill was about to protest, but the woman quickly retrieved her badge from her pocket and tossed it in his direction. Leon lowered his weapon to scrutinize it and Jill nearly chided him as she took another step in the woman’s direction, maintaining pressure.

“Looks legitimate.” He said quietly before reading aloud, “Ada Wong.”

Jill maintained a cold shoulder, unimpressed by Ada’s alleged proof of her identity. FBI or not, Umbrella’s influence had proven to be unexpectedly vast. There was no telling how far the corruption had spread.

“At least allow me to help me help your friend.” Ada persisted, pulling her shades away to expose her warm, almond-shaped eyes, “I have medicinal supplies.”

Jill glanced at Leon. The bright lights of the parking deck emphasized the sheen of sweat that enveloped his pale skin and his chest rose and fell at an accelerated pace. A splotch of red had begun to surface on the layer of gauze that was exposed by the tear in his shirt, proving that her makeshift surgical intervention wasn’t adequate enough to entirely stem the bleeding.

Ada raised an eyebrow as she watched Jill deliberate.

“I truly mean no harm.” She urged and, in a show of her comradeship, she swiftly pulled her pistol from beneath her trench coat and threw it onto the ground between them.

“Alright.” Leon surrendered, perhaps out of desperation as he lowered his weapon.

Jill’s eyes widened as she looked over at her partner, but she said nothing. She holstered her Samurai Edge, but kept a hand close by as Ada gave her a knowing smirk.

Truth be told, she couldn’t count on Leon to back her up. He had proven to be too naive, too weak, too _slow_ to the draw to be reliable. Frowning hard, she watched Ada persuade him to take a seat against a nearby column as she pulled a packet of herbs from her pocket.

As soon as they rendezvoused with Chris, Jill would be sure to wash her hands clean of the shady bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...hopefully there will be some sweet Valenfield action in the next chapter. I apologize for the delay in this update. I was blindsided by a nasty case of writer's block, but I decided to bitchslap it back and force myself to write anyway. A huge thanks to everyone who has supported this story so far and another warm hug for Xaori, the best partner in crime I could ever ask for.
> 
> I've started a short, tragic, post RE-5 Valenfield under the title of _Ceremony_. It's absolutely terrible, has made me cry multiple times, and is probably the most upsetting thing I've ever written, but if you hate yourself as much as I hate myself for writing it, please go give it a gander. :) It'll only be 5 chapters in total and, once it's complete and I've tied up _Ten of Swords_ , one of my gritty Cleon fics that's essentially a shuffled up retelling of RE2, I hope to start a silly crime-solving S.T.A.R.S. fic featuring dumb, young Chris and Jill because I'm a whore for Valenfield and nothing can ever change that.
> 
> NOTHING.


	18. The Redfield Way

Every muscle fiber in her body was spent. The moment of calm had allowed the effects of the adrenaline to wear off and exhaustion had long begun to set in. In response, Jill all but collapsed against the nearby wall of the parking garage and leaned into it for support as she observed the exchange between Leon and Ada.

"Is the FBI aware of what's happened to Raccoon City?" Leon asked through gritted teeth as Ada packed medicinal herbs into his wound, "Anyone en route to evac?"

Solemnly, Ada shook her head.

"There was no reason to believe that the virus had leaked," she explained, "And I haven't been able to make contact since I arrived."

How convenient it was that majority of Raccoon City had lost power and, perhaps even more so, the fact that the telephone lines had spontaneously gone down as well. Jill managed to withhold her scoff and took an interest in a crack in the pavement below her feet.

"The rest of the known survivors...and us, we're trying to get to the radio tower to establish contact with authorities." Leon divulged much to Jill's dismay.

Ada raised a thinly groomed eyebrow, but said nothing as she continued administering her aid.

"How do things like this happen anyway?" He asked bitterly. "How does a company get away with...the zombie apocalypse without being noticed?"

Jill held her tongue. Leon had likely heard the jokes S.T.A.R.S. had been subjected to following Arklay. He had to have known that she was involved in uncovering Umbrella's secret, but there was no reason for her to offer anything to the discussion while Ada was around.

"Umbrella has both the influence and funds to force potential whistleblowers into silence," Ada explained, "And it seems as though this has all been in the works for quite a while."

"What has? The virus?" Leon asked.

Ada carefully applied tape over the edges of the bandages she dressed Leon's wound with and nodded in affirmation.

"Both of them. G and T."

At the mention of the G virus, Jill felt numb. Momentarily, it seemed as though time stood still. She narrowed her eyes as she glared at Ada while her thoughts began to race. How could Ada have known about the G-virus? She had claimed that Irons had tipped off the FBI. Neither Jill nor Chris had known about the G-virus at the time Arklay occurred. The likelihood that Irons knew was slim unless his involvement ran deeper than they had initially expected. As far as Jill was concerned, Irons' IQ was comparable to room temperature and certainly not compatible with knowledge of bioterrorist research.

"The G-virus?" Jill asked, feigning ignorance in order to pry deeper, "I thought there was only T."

Ada looked back at Jill over her shoulder and smiled.

"If only it were that simple. The Arklay report from Irons mentioned a discovery of two viruses."

Jill surprised herself with her reflexes. Before her mind even had a chance to process the implication of the slip-up, her body had taken the initiative to draw her gun. She stepped forward with her Samurai Edge tightly gripped in her hand and pointed in Ada's direction. While she was no Chris Redfield, Jill was certain she was a squeeze of a trigger away from burying a bullet between Ada's eyes.

"How interesting…" she mused aloud, spitting each word like venom, "The G-virus was never mentioned in the Arklay report because  _we_  didn't know about it at the time."

Having caught onto the situation, Leon drew his own weapon. Ada pursed her lips into a pout and shrugged.

"The report had been passed through several hands before I was assigned to the case. I can't say for certain where that detail came from, but…" she allowed her gaze to slowly follow the length of Jill's body in a nearly predatory manner as she ascertained her identity, "I must say that I am  _honored_  to be in the presence of a survivor of S.T.A.R.S."

Jill didn't falter. Her posture remained rigid, expression stoic as she maintained her stance.

"Or," Jill challenged, "You're one of Umbrella's lapdogs."

A silence fell upon the trio. Ada's eyes remained locked with Jill's and a hint of a smirk surfaced as the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

"Perhaps."

Jill tightened the hook of her finger around the trigger.

"If I was…" Ada tilted her head to the side in question, a gesture that somehow served to infuriate Jill further, "...would you kill me?"

A draft filtered through the parking garage and teased the hairs that stood on the back of Jill's neck. It was a valid question that even she had to ask herself. If Ada was working for Umbrella, would she kill her? More importantly,  _could_  she?

Admittedly, Jill wasn't sure. Killing the undead in order to survive was a far cry from performing an execution out of vengeance. What would Ada's death accomplish? Umbrella would still be at large and she would still have to fight her way out of Raccoon City.

"Jill," Leon lowered his gun slightly, "Maybe you should think this through..."

His show of mercy was enough for Ada to capitalize upon. Jill cussed under her breath as the woman took hold of Leon's handgun and spun around him, pinning one of his arms behind his back.

"Rookie mistake." She whispered into his ear as she pressed the barrel of his own gun more firmly against his temple.

Leon grunted as pain seared through his chest on account of the uncomfortable position he was contorted into.

"Ada, wait…" He managed to speak between gritted teeth, but Ada only pressed the gun closer, forcing his neck to bend at an awkward angle.

"Nothing good can come of this, Ada," Jill spoke calmly, weapon still trained on the woman's figure, "We're all screwed no matter what. There's no need to get his blood on your hands."

Ada laughed. Shifting her position, she wrapped an arm around Leon's neck to force him into a chokehold and repositioned the barrel of her gun towards Jill.

"No," she spoke with amusement, "But yours might be worth something, Miss Valentine."

Leon's eyelids fluttered open and closed as the color of his face grew grey. Beads of sweat broke out on his face and Jill steeled herself in preparation for what would come next. She watched as Leon's eyes roll back in his head and he went limp in Ada's grasp. His dead weight caught her off guard and she stumbled back, releasing him from her hold. Leon toppled unceremoniously to the ground and Jill took advantage of the situation.

She crashed into Ada, tripping over Leon's body in the midst of her leap. They both crashed to the pavement and Jill winced at the stinging of her skinned palms that broke her fall. Ada was pinned below her with Jill's thighs on either side of her body and she grunted as she thrust her hips forward in an attempt to throw Jill off of her. Jill was steadfast, immobilizing her with her weight as she pressed down on her shoulders with her bleeding palms.

Relaxing beneath Jill's weight, Ada shot her a sardonic smirk.

"I see how you survived Arklay," she cooed, "But G isn't quite as forgiving. T was the inferior virus."

Ada wrenched her arm out from under Jill's hold to reveal a metal cylinder that she held firmly within her grasp. Before Jill could speak, Ada slipped her thumb beneath the pin of the grenade and, with a flick of her finger, it began to hiss, filling the vicinity with a thick cloud of fog.

Breaking into a fit of coughs, Jill surrendered. She fell back from Ada and onto the floor of the parking garage, eyes burning and watering on account of the smoke. Too spent to put up much of a fight, Jill crawled away from the heat of the grenade as it continued to spew its contents into the air.

She waited low to the ground, eyes held shut as the whistle of the grenade subsided. With the collar of her shirt pulled over her nose and mouth, she called out to Leon.

"I'm alright!" He answered and Jill leaned back against the cement, relieved.

"Stay low to the ground!" She commanded through the shroud of fog. "The gases will rise."

Jill let out a shuddering breath as she allowed her eyelids to slip closed. She draped one arm over her abdomen and focused on breathing despite the gases that still lingered in the air. Her body felt impossibly heavy, draped with the thick blanket of fatigue, and she wondered, idly, how much longer it would be before the others made it to the garage.

She must have drifted off for a moment. Suddenly, she opened her eyes, briefly panicked by having lost awareness as to where she was. Jill sat upright and began to crawl about in search of her handgun in the thin area of visibility beneath the rising fog.

A loud crash resounded through the parking deck, followed by the crumble of stone and clatter of metal against the ground. Inhaling sharply, Jill scrambled with more haste.

" _S.T.A.R.S…"_

The familiar utterance caused her to freeze.

And  _itch._

"Jill?!"

The fear in Leon's voice was almost tangible and Jill swallowed hard as she reached for her handgun that had slid beneath a nearby vehicle. She heard the stomping of boots against the ground and the heavy, rasping breaths draw near, but,  _fuck,_  she desperately wished she hadn't.

Jill knew she had only one option. She  _had_  to draw the creature away. Leon would  _die_  otherwise and, hell, she might too, but she was determined to bring the fucker down with her if this was how her story was to end.

Having located the now collapsed gate through the small strip of clear air, she rose on shaky legs and shouted, "Leon...stay here! I'll be back."

Despite her survival instincts and the protests on Leon's part, Jill sprinted back into the throes of Raccoon City with the monster in tow.

* * *

"Holy  _fuck…_ "

Claire stood in the street and surveyed the destruction of the parking garage's wall with morbid interest. Stepping through the opening provided by the destroyed shutter, she looked up at the jagged edge of damaged stone that precariously hovered above and grimaced. From further down the road, Chris felt his stomach drop at the sight of the demolition. Recollections of their initial encounter within which the Tyrant effortlessly tore a gate off its hinges came rushing back at the familiar sight and he broke into a sprint, zipping past Kevin as he made his way to the garage.

"Jill?!"

It couldn't have been a result of the same monster. Chris had ensured that, at the very least, it was devastatingly crippled as a result of his blow. Something else had to have caused the destruction, but as he stumbled over the wreckage at the entryway, Chris came to an abrupt halt. Claire had Leon pulled into an embrace with no apparent sign of Jill to be found.

"Where is she?" Chris deadpanned, moving between parked cars in search of her.

Leon's voice was hoarse as he spoke, almost ashamed for what came out of his mouth.

"She's in the city. She lured this monster away. I didn't have a chance t-"

"She's  _what?"_

Perhaps he had heard it just fine, but his mind wouldn't allow him to process it. How could Jill willingly go back out into the infested city on her own after nearly losing her life? It didn't make sense. How could she be so reckless? How could Leon have let her go alone?

Seeing red, Chris took a step towards Leon, but the sudden weight of Kevin's hand on his shoulder kept him grounded. Taking in a deep breath through his nose, Chris exhaled slowly and willed himself to remain calm.

"Explain."

"I don't couldn't get a good look at it." Leon confessed. "It was a monster for sure, but...it spoke."

So it  _was_  alive. Fucking hell. He paced back and forth, mind reeling with all of the possible outcomes. If the Tyrant managed to infect her again, he wasn't sure that there was another antidote around. The odds of him finding such fortune more than once were slim.

Coming to an abrupt stop, Chris drew his handgun and released the magazine, ensuring that it was full. As he slid it back into the pistol with an audible  _click,_  he nodded to himself.

"Alright," With a wave of his hand, he gestured to his companions, "I'm going to find her."

Claire stepped forward with a stomp of her boot against the ground.

"Chris, are you fucking  _crazy?"_

The pitch of her voice was elevated in a near shriek and Chris was compelled to roll his eyes, having long grown accustomed to Claire's sisterly theatrics.

"Not really."

He pointed to Leon accusingly.

"He needs help, Claire. I want you, Kevin, and Leon to get the fuck out of here. I'll get Jill and we'll meet up with you."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Claire looked over at Leon with a cross expression. There was no denying that he needed assistance escaping the city, but using Leon as an excuse to justify his choice was unfair. As much as she wanted to get out of Raccoon City, she sure as hell didn't want it to come at the expense of her brother's life.

"So Kevin can get Leon out of here." She insisted, nodding towards Kevin who sneered in return.

"Why the hell are you gonna put that responsibility on me?" He uncomfortably laughed, "How do you propose I get him out on my own?"

Chris rifled through his pocket and tossed the object he retrieved in Kevin's direction. He clumsily caught it and the familiar jingle of metal was enough to reveal just what it was to the rest of their audience.

"Keys?" Kevin slid his finger through the metal ring that bound the keys together and dangled them in the air.

Claire furrowed her brow.

"Chris, what the  _fuck?_  Since when do you keep all of these secrets from me?!"

Chris glossed over her comment and addressed Kevin instead.

"Take one of the squad cars and get them out of here," He commanded authoritatively, not even bothering to look Claire in the eye as he spoke, "We can meet up at my parents' house later. Claire can tell you how to get there."

Claire's fury rolled off of her in waves. With a hard frown, she shook her head animatedly, causing tendrils of her dark hair to fall free from her ponytail.

"Like hell I will."

Indignantly, she placed a hand on her hip and stepped into Chris's line of sight, forcing him to acknowledge her.

"Chris, I'm going with you. You can't just go off and die on me like that."

Chris motioned to one of the cop cars nearby with his hand.

"No, Claire, you're going to get your ass in one of these cars and go  _home_."

Flustered by his insistence, Claire let out a groan. A deep red flush of anger crept up the length of her neck and had begun to envelop her face. With her arms once more crossed over her chest, she leaned forward at the waist and spitefully stared into her brother's eyes.

"Why are you so hell bent on dying for this woman?"

The accusatory nature of the question forced Chris to snap. Pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, he took in a ragged breath. He could hear the beat of blood rushing in his ears and swallowed his pride as best he could.

"Because, Claire…" His voice was soft, gentle even, "I love her, alright? I fucking love her so much that it scares the shit out of me, but the thought of losing her terrifies me even more. I don't know when or how this happened and I promise I'll tell you about her later, but this woman has somehow managed to become my entire goddamn  _world_  and I can't just let it go to shit without putting up a fight."

Taking advantage of Claire's stunned silence, he continued.

"It's risky. It's dangerous. Hell, it's possibly even a suicide mission, but, fuck, Claire...if I take you with, there's a chance of losing  _you_  too and I can't bear to lose you both. Not  _here,_ not like this."

An unpleasant quiet filled the parking deck, leaving Chris's words heavily hanging in the air. Claire's focus shifted to Kevin, who raised an eyebrow and shot her a knowing smirk, and then to Leon with his slick, pale complexion that seemed even worse than before on account of the staggered breaths he took. She turned back to Chris with his slumped shoulders and warm brown eyes that wordlessly implored for her cooperation.

"Fine." She relented, her ire having diminished just  _slightly_  as a result of Chris's monologue. "But Kevin's driving and I get the first shower."

Chris let out a long sigh of relief, but his respite was short-lived. Claire jabbed him in the chest with her finger in an angry gesture.

"When I see you again, you have a lot of explaining to do."

All he could do was nod, having perhaps been more fearful of his little sister's wrath than the confrontation with the Tyrant that was to come.

* * *

Jill's lungs burned. As she sprinted through the damp streets of the city, she pressed a hand to her ribs in a futile attempt to quell the stitch that had formed in her side. The wet pavement made each stomp of her boots against the ground seem amplified and she inwardly cursed at the amount of noise she made as she ran. Drawing the attention of the other creatures that went bump in the night of Raccoon was the last thing she needed.

She didn't need to look over her shoulder to know that the monster was still in pursuit. The rhythmic, calculated pounding of its boots against the cement was a cadence she had quickly become familiar with. It was a far cry from the sloppy stumble of the undead and a hell of a lot more terrifying to listen to.

Breathing in deeply, she threw her head back for a moment to open her airway and allow better passage of air. The sky above was dark and without a single star in sight due to the storm clouds that had rolled in. It was comically fitting-a sky without light for a city without hope.

She shot down an alleyway and brushed past a zombie with enough speed to safely bypass it as it spun around with a groan and an arm outstretched in attempt to catch her. Glancing back over her shoulder, she watched the Tyrant enter the alleyway and swat the zombie aside without hesitation as it quickly cleared the length of the alley with long strides.

What was she doing? Running wasn't going to solve the problem. Her endurance had a limit and she wasn't sure that the Tyrant's did. She assumed that her distance from the precinct and her mortality rate were inversely related-the further she traveled, the more likely she was to get swarmed.

Or...mutilated, perhaps, given what had happened to Brad.

How long had it been since she left the garage? Surely Chris and the others had already made it to Leon. He probably told them what had happened and Chris likely figured out that the monster wasn't dead.

The thought made her feel guilty. He must have been worried sick about her, just as she would have been if it were him. What an asshole she was to get infected and allow him to risk his life for her just to throw it all away now.

Shooting down another alleyway, she doubled back in the direction of the precinct. As she traveled, she remained alert and scanned her surroundings for any semblance of  _anything_  that could be used to bring the creature down. So far, her search had been unproductive. What the hell did she expect to do with just a handgun?

Her best. It was all she could do.

With the road ahead seemingly clear, she twisted around and sprayed bullets at the monster. It let out a low growl as one of her stray bullets pierced the soft tissue of its face, but its pace was unaffected. The creature continued to storm down the street and she winced at the sound of her empty magazine thudding against the ground as she slid another in its place.

How many rounds did she have left? She hadn't had a chance to take inventory, but she supposed it didn't matter. Regardless of however many she possessed, it was enough.

It  _had_  to be.

She slid across the slick pavement as she came to an abrupt stop to turn and open fire on the creature. Given her steady stance, her shots were more accurate this time, piercing its chest, shoulders, and neck. It grunted and came to a standstill, outstretching its arms on either side of its body to throw back its head and let out a deep, inhuman roar.

The sound of it made her heart skip a beat. Jill stepped backwards slowly, reloading her weapon once more as the sound of its scratchy cry made her hands tremble in betrayal. With the magazine gracelessly refilled, she pulled back the slide despite the sweat that slicked her skin.

Its unsettling, blank white eyes were focused on her. It regarded her for a while as though studying her movement before breaking into a dash, one arm reared back in preparation to strike as it rapidly approached. Instinctively, Jill sprinted behind a nearby car to force distance between them and fired at the creature again.

Agitated, it howled. With seemingly no effort, it slammed its boot down onto the hood of the car, crushing it beneath the force of the blow. It stepped forward, shifting the entirety of its weight onto the car and causing the front end to collapse.

She was fucked. Probably. Definitely.

Regardless, she reloaded her weapon again and unloaded on the monster, stepping backwards as it crept forwards along the length of the car. If she were to die, she was going to make sure that she went down fighting no matter how futile her attempt seemed.

"Jill!"

She turned her head to the side at the sound of her name being called, lips parted in surprise. Chris was barreling down the street towards her and she let out a sigh of relief at the sight of him. He appeared to have been unharmed by the other Tyrant, though she wasn't sure that she'd be able to say the same for this encounter.

"Chris, wh-!"

With her attention having been diverted away from the creature, it had managed to close the distance between them. It delivered a powerful punch, one that sent her flying back into the brick face of a nearby building. Collapsing onto the floor, she let out a pained moan and clutched her side, attempting to rise on shaky legs as the monster came to hover above her.

Shots fired and, from below, she watched the creature stagger as the bullets landed in the back of its skull. Its head bobbed forward with each shot and it turned away from her slowly.

"S.T.A.R.S…" It uttered and Jill swore she could detect malice in its voice.

Chris threw his arms out at his sides in a wide gesture and gave the monster a boyish smirk as he took a few steps back.

"Alpha team's finest." He boasted, earning another bellow from the Tyrant.

From behind, Jill could make out the silhouettes of the tentacles that squirmed from beneath the collar of its trench coat. The mere sight of them brought memories of their prior encounter back to mind and she winced at the thought, shaking her head as she gripped a nearby parking meter to bring herself to stand.

The monster charged at Chris and he mercilessly fired, striking its face and chest. Once his magazine was emptied, he followed Jill's example and maneuvered behind a parked car, providing enough distance to buy time to retrieve a grenade he had previously stored away.

Pulling the pin, he pulled back an arm and shouted for Jill to maintain her distance before chucking it towards the monster. It landed between its feet with a  _clink_  of metal against the pavement and Jill covered her ears to defend herself from the impending burst.

Chris was ducked behind the car when it exploded. Shrapnel ricocheted off the opposite side of the car and the hiss of smoke and flame was audible. Rising, he peeked over the hood of the car to observe the damage.

As the smoke cleared, he was able to make out the silhouette of the creature sprawled out on the floor, unmoving.

It was enough for him. Without hesitation, he cleared the width of the street to Jill's side and pulled her into a suffocating embrace.

"Jesus Christ, Jill, why the hell would you go after it on your own?"

She pulled back from his chest to glare at him.

"You think I  _wanted_  to?" She questioned, an eyebrow raised at the prospect of it. "It would have killed Leon if I didn't."

Chris sighed and shook his head as he pulled her to him once again.

"Anyone but you, Jill. Seriously."

Jill gripped the front of his shirt, but said nothing. Had he really suggested that she should have allowed someone to die at her expense? She buried her face in his chest and shook her head.

"Can we just...leave now?" She asked, voice quiet with exhaustion.

Chris laughed and pulled away, draping an arm over her shoulder as they traveled back in the direction of the parking garage. Jill limped slightly as they made their way down the street, hip aching from where she had landed. She leaned into Chris as they walked and, for the first time since the outbreak started, her mind was still. There was just her, Chris, and the slick, empty street.

"We're going to lay low at my parents' house for a while." Chris informed her and she just nodded tiredly against his shoulder.

Anything was better than Raccoon City.

"Do you think you'll miss it?" She asked softly, nodding towards the street.

"You mean Raccoon?" Chris clarified and she hummed in affirmation.

She felt the rumble of his laughter as it drifted through his body.

"Hell no."

It couldn't have been a more appropriate time to hear the powerful clopping of boots in the distance. With an arm defensively looped around Jill, Chris turned back to see the Tyrant rapidly racing in their direction. Having forgone its coat, its silhouette had quickly become much more threatening on account of the loops of tentacles that surrounded its body, jutting out at odd angles and forming loops that squirmed and twisted on their own accord.

"Jill, you  _have_  to run."

Letting go of her, Chris began to step towards the monster as he fired at it once again and Jill nearly laughed. Did he  _really_  think she'd just leave him behind? Instead, she drew her weapon once more and began to shoot.

A rumbling of an engine caught her attention.

Whipping back around, Jill turned in time to witness a police cruiser speed by at an alarmingly fast pace. She watched in horror as it crashed directly into the monster with a loud shatter of glass and smash of metal. Smoke filled the field of view and they both stood, dumbfounded as they waited for the cloud to clear.

A string of expletives preceded the emergence of a figure from the haze. Claire coughed as she stepped into the open air while rubbing the side of her neck with her palm.

"I think that fucker gave me whiplash!" She yelped, turning back to give the wrecked car a final glare, "I tried to reverse back over it, but the car was too fucked."

Jill looked over at Chris who shook his head in disbelief.

The scratch of gravel beneath tires from behind came to a halt as another car came to a stop beside them. With the passenger window unrolled, Kevin leaned over to address them.

"Tried to talk her out of it," He insisted, addressing Chris, "But...you Redfields, man…"

Claire childishly stuck her tongue out at Kevin before wrenching open the passenger side door.

"Shotgun." She stated, slamming it closed behind herself.

Chris and Jill exchanged a confused look before piling into the backseat with Leon.

"Put on your damn seatbelts," Kevin commanded, peering back at them through the rearview mirror as he put the car in reverse and whipped around to head in the direction opposite the monster, "State patrol has jurisdiction a little ways out and I  _hate_  dealing with those assholes."

Chris snorted as he obeyed, clicking his seatbelt into place as he slung an arm over the back of Jill's seat. For a while, they maintained their silence as they traversed through the city, taking in the sight of the wreckage and the undead that meandered openly through the streets. As they entered the city limits, their escape began to feel real and Jill leaned back into her seat in repose.

The sign that bid Raccoon City goodbye came into view and Claire unrolled her window to thrust her arm out into the night air and flip the sign a bird.

"Fuck you, Raccoon City." She spat, earning low laughter from her companions.

Further up ahead on the road, just barely within the edges of the light provided by the headlights of the car, a figure ran into the street. Kevin cussed and slammed hard on the brakes, bringing the vehicle to an abrupt stop. Leaning her head out the window, Claire narrowed her eyes to take in the figure, hand fumbling for the pistol jammed down in the center console.

"It's...a  _kid."_  She gasped, cracking open the door.

"Human or zombie?" Kevin asked skeptically and Chris straightened up in his seat, unholstering his weapon.

The figure began to carefully walk towards the car with too much poise to have been the staggering strut of the undead.

"Human." Claire whispered before stepping out of the car.

Chris held his breath as he watched Claire step into the halo of light.

"What the fuck is she doing?" He hissed, shifting anxiously in his seat.

Kevin leaned over the steering wheel to watch the exchange more closely. Claire's body obscured his view of the child, but he watched her lean forward and extend an arm in its direction. She pulled it out of the glow of the lights and ducked in the cab.

"We're making room for one more." She explained before pulling back out.

A blonde-haired girl climbed into the front seat and turned back to greet her new companions.

"Hi…" She shyly mumbled, gripping the back of the passenger seat with one hand.

"I'm Sherry."

Claire slid into the seat beside her and smiled.

"Tight fit, but we can manage."

Kevin sighed as he put the car back into drive.

"Yep...definitely gonna get a citation."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's all finally wave goodbye to Raccoon City. :) Fuck you, Raccoon City!
> 
> Thanks so much for all the support so far. You are all the best, really, especially those of you who have stuck it out with me since the beginning. I also have to give Xaori a shout-out like always because she's somehow partially responsible for everything I put out. Go read her fics if you have time!
> 
> The next couple of chapters will be a little more calm, I promise. We're going to delve into some completely original content for a while to fill in some gaps in the canon, so buckle up and stay tuned for a wild ride.


	19. Respite

They had been on the road for roughly an hour. The sun's rays had just begun to glow over the horizon, painting the sky in a hue of pink that harshly contrasted against the grey smudge of the dissipating storm clouds. Chris could feel the weight of Jill's head lolling against his shoulder as she slept, yet he himself could not find a sense of reprieve. Compared to the tribulations they had endured within the city, their escape had seemed unsettlingly  _easy_ and he half expected to witness a Tyrant step into the street at any moment.

How could they be sure that the infection been contained within Raccoon?

It was a question that he didn't dare ask aloud, lest he break the comfortable silence that filled the car. Leon's temple was pressed against the window as he slept, staggered breathing having finally evened out. Claire was in a trance, trapped in the hazy state between sleep and wakefulness as her eyes occasionally fluttered open and closed. She had one arm loosely wrapped around Sherry, who was half curled in her lap and slept with her face pressed to the space between Claire's shoulder and neck.

Chris met Kevin's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"You sure you're alright to keep driving?" Chris asked, voice soft with genuine concern.

Kevin shifted in the driver's seat and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm good."

Chris let out a breath through his nose and leaned back into the seat. His mind was extraordinarily still in that moment as he struggled to even attempt to process what the  _fuck_  had just happened to them. Though Jill had survived, the fact that she possibly might not have was still a difficult pill to swallow. Even more so, being faced with his own mortality was strangely unsettling. In both his Air Force days and as a former member of S.T.A.R.S, he had flirted with death often, but it never carried the same weight as it did now. Suddenly, Chris Redfield was afraid to die, and he couldn't necessarily explain why.

"Hey, Ryman." Chris broke the silence, voice cracking slightly as he spoke.

"Yeah?"

Chris shifted a little in his seat, taking care not to disturb Jill from her sleep.

"Thanks. Seriously."

Kevin chuckled softly to himself and shook his head. Briefly, he looked back at Chris from over his shoulder and shrugged.

"Don't mention it, man. You would have done the same for me."

In response, Chris only nodded to himself as he settled back into the softness of the backseat. He hadn't realized he had fallen asleep until he heard a door slam shut. The abrupt sound ripped him from his slumber and he jolted awake, hand instinctively dropping to his hip in search of a weapon. Instead, he ended up smacking the side of his hand against the door and let out a hiss of pain.

Kevin looked back at him with an amused look and Chris cussed under his breath as he turned his attention to the window. The car was idled outside of the emergency room of a hospital and he watched Claire assist a limping Leon inside with the young girl-Shelly or Sarah or  _whatever_ -in tow.

He looked down at Jill who was still fast asleep and curled up at his side.

"Not sure how she's gonna explain the injuries, but she insisted she'd manage," Kevin explained, "Do you want to…"

His gaze fell on Jill and Chris paused in thought. It seemed as though the neighboring cities hadn't been affected by the outbreak, so how the hell would he even get her treated? He couldn't fathom a scenario in which he successfully convinced a doctor that Jill had been infected with some fucked up strain of a zombie virus but was  _possibly_  cured. More than likely, it would have resulted in him being detained by the police.

"Nah." He finally answered. "I'll just keep an eye on her."

The unspoken half of the sentence hung heavily in the air -  _I'll just keep an eye on her...in case she turns._  Neither of the men dared to speak the possibility aloud, but it was a valid fear that ran through both of their minds. There was no promise that Jill truly was cured.

The Redfield home was only twenty minutes out from the hospital, nestled on a private lot just outside of the suburbs. It was a quaint home that boasted a roomy farmhouse porch that had seen better days given the rot that had claimed one of the wooden steps leading up to it and the mess of crumpled autumn leaves that were littered about its surface. Once white, the house was now a dingy grey and Chris winced at the sight of one of the window shutters that had begun to hang crookedly from its hinges.

"It's been a while." He said defensively as he watched Kevin observe it through the windshield.

Jill stirred as he nudged her as gingerly as he could manage. She grumbled quietly as she rubbed at the stiffness that had formed in her neck as she straightened up in her seat, leaving the comfort of Chris's shoulder behind as surveyed her surroundings with a confused expression.

"We dropped Claire, Leon, and the kid off at the hospital." Chris informed her as she yawned softly, nodding all the while.

A soreness settled in his joints when climbed out of the car, causing him to stumble just slightly with his first step. He caught himself on the edge of the open door and was quickly granted with a burning sensation in his palm, a reminder of the damage he had done to escape the leech man. His shoulder felt tight where he had caught an impressively hard hitting right hook from that asshole in the trench coat and he winced at the thought of how terrible Jill must have felt.

She was standing beside the car, splattered with blood, dirt, and possibly other bodily fluids that he didn't care to identify. Her hair was tousled with sleep and the dark circles that framed her dull blue eyes made her face seem paler than usual. The shoulder that had been impaled by the creature hung lower than the other and her shirt was torn to expose various areas of marred skin.

Chris assumed he didn't look too endearing himself, but he wasn't particularly anxious to find out. The fact that he felt like hell was more than enough proof to appease his curiosity. Forcing a weak smile towards Jill, he made his way to the porch, bypassing the rotten step along the way. He found the key taped to the inside of the cover to the electrical socket and wasted no time in unlocking the front door.

The home smelled musty, like dust and old linen that had been stored in the hallway closet for a season too many. He kicked off his shoes in the entryway and let out a sigh of relief, grateful to have been freed from the leather confines of his boots. As an afterthought, he leaned over to neatly arrange his shoes in order to make room for those of his company.

Chris stepped into the living area and gave the worn, weathered couch a remorseful look. He was tempted to throw himself onto it and sink into its familiar, soft cushions, but the presence of zombie guts and who the hell knew what else seeped into his clothes made him think twice. He turned to look at Kevin and gestured to the hall that followed the length of the staircase.

"There's a bathroom down the hall." He explained, "Water should be running. You can steal some clothes out of the guest bedroom beside it."

At the sight of Kevin's nod, Chris took Jill by the hand and led her up the staircase. She offered no protest, finding herself too exhausted to even so much as speak. It felt as though her bones had been filled with liquid cement and she lethargically trudged her way up the staircase, paying the home little attention as she passed through it. There would be plenty of time for exploration later on; for now, she only wanted to  _sleep._

She didn't realize he had led her to the master bathroom until he'd already flipped on the tap. The sound of the water striking the tile bottom of the shower was almost jarring. It ripped her from the silence of her mind and her lips parted slightly as she turned to Chris with an unspoken question. She watched him test the temperature of the water with a hesitant hand before he turned to her with a half-hearted smile.

"We're covered in zombie juice."

There was a little humor in his voice when he spoke and Jill looked down at herself. She wrinkled her nose at the state of her clothing, torn and stained in various places. As exhausted as she was, she supposed she could summon the energy to shower and spare the furniture and its linens.

She felt his hands lifting the hem of her shirt away from her hips and she allowed her eyes to flutter closed in order to focus on the feeling. He was careful in his ministrations and she felt the fabric slowly rise from her skin. She raised her arms just slightly to allow him to pull it over her head and he began to undo the button on her pants before slipping them over her legs that struggled to move.

Her heavy eyelids parted and Chris was standing with his back to her. Reaching behind his head, he grabbed a fistful of fabric that rested between his shoulder blades and gave it a quick tug, grimacing at the sensation of crusted cloth coming free from his skin in the areas where it had fused with his open wounds. He tossed his shirt into the sink with little regard and did his best to avoid the mirror as he kicked off his pants.

Jill didn't notice that they had become naked until he ducked beneath the stream of water, his fingers interlaced with hers as he pulled her inside the humid heat of the shower. He shifted their position so that her back was to the downpour and he placed a finger beneath her chin to prompt her to tilt her head back, allowing her hair to quickly grow damp before turning her back around.

The water that circled the bottom of the shower was rusty, stained with shades of red and brown. She watched it swirl around the drain with morbid interest, but dared not ask if the blood was her own. A coolness settled into her scalp as Chris began to work shampoo through her hair and she leaned into his touch, relishing the feel of his fingertips against her skin.

Soap suds slid down the length of her back and Chris followed their path with his gaze. As the foam slid between her shoulder blades, he lightly pressed a thumb to her shoulder and grazed it over the nearly rounded exit point where the creature's tentacle had speared through her. It was surrounded by an ugly, bright red and purple bruise that faded into a hint of blue and he furrowed his brow at the sight of it.

"I'm sorry." He murmured as he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

He carefully blotted at the area with a rag, washing away the faded stain of blood that had run down her back. His fingertips ghosted along the expanse of her back, lingering over each errant bruise and scrape that tarnished her skin.

Chris turned her to face him once more and methodically rinsed the soapy foam from her hair. He brushed his thumb over the flushed, raised flesh over her chest, tracing the drag marks left behind by the insistent scratch of her nails. The area where the tentacle had pierced her flesh was worse from the front, dark with dried blood, swollen and bruised. Feeling a sense of rage at the sight of it, he averted his gaze only to catch a glimpse of smudges of purple and red that discolored the front of her thigh and hip.

A thick peppering of stubble had claimed Chris's jaw and Jill followed it down the curve of his neck to a gash that spanned over his Adam's apple. His shoulder was bruised, skin blooming with impressive shades of yellow and purple, serving as a haunting recollection of one of the Tyrants that had stalked them.

She felt a chill tremble down the length of her spine at the thought of the two creatures that had pursued them. Everything that happened in Raccoon City seemed far too surreal. Even now, as she reflected on the creatures they had encountered and the difficult scenarios they had endured, she found it difficult to swallow. Raccoon City was overrun by the dead. What happened next?

"Does anyone know?" She blurted the question aloud and Chris momentarily furrowed his brow as he attempted to understand what she had asked.

"I don't know," he finally responded, "But they'll find out eventually."

He cupped her upper arm with his hand and shifted their positions, putting himself beneath the stream of water as he poured a dollop of shampoo into his palm and began to scrub at his own scalp. The suds in his hand began to turn pink and Jill reached upwards to take his hand and observed the laceration across his palm that had begun to bleed once more.

"Long story." He lazily explained. "There was this guy. Well, not really a guy. Just a bunch of leeches pretending to be a guy."

All she could do was laugh at the incredulousness of it all.

Once they had both effectively scoured themselves clean in the shower, Jill met Chris's stare in the reflection of the mirror as she scrubbed at her teeth with his toothbrush. He watched her with a peculiar intensity, his dark eyes uncharacteristically unreadable as they met hers. As she wiped away the last bit of foam that clung to the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, she turned to him with a curious expression.

She didn't have even a single moment to breathe before his mouth crashed against hers. He met her with a sense of desperation, all gasps and tongue as he crushed her against him with a clumsy hook of his arm around her body. Jill whimpered slightly against his mouth and he responded with an involuntary groan as his hands roamed along the length of her body in search of the hem of the oversized shirt she had donned.

Chris slipped his hands beneath the edge of her shirt and ran his palms along the smooth, toned flesh of her thighs. He moved slowly as he pressed his hips firmly against hers, pinning her between himself and the edge of the counter. In their proximity, she could feel his hardness against her lower belly and she took in a sharp breath even as he explored her mouth with his own.

He pulled away to bury his face in the side of her neck and she felt the heat of his short, panting breaths against her pulse point. His thumb idly grazed over the jut of her hipbone and she gripped his intact shoulder with one hand as she pressed the other against his back. His lips briefly ghosted over the sensitive skin of her neck before he murmured, "I nearly lost you."

When he pulled back to look at her, his eyes were wet and warm. She felt her heart seize in her chest and she forced a smile as she cupped the side of his face in her hand and traced his lower lip with the pad of her thumb.

"I nearly lost you too." She whispered and he let out a strangled laugh, one that nearly escaped as a sob.

"Jill, I…"

Chris shook his head as his lips curled into a smirk, almost as though he were mocking himself in a strange way.

"I love you," he confessed, "I love you so fucking much that it scares me."

She pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss and he felt her smile against his mouth.

"I love you," she mumbled against his lips, long eyelashes parting to allow her pale blue eyes to meet his, "And it scares me almost as much as Raccoon City."

He didn't hesitate. Chris gripped her by the backs of her thighs and effortlessly hoisted her up into the air, causing her to reflexively wrap her legs around his hips for leverage. He kissed her deeply and fervently in a flurry of teeth, tongue, and gasps as he carried her to the bedroom.

Despite his eagerness, he gently laid her on the mattress before slipping off his underwear and straddling her hips, lifting the fabric of her shirt until it pooled just beneath her breasts. He ran his hands along her sides, relishing in the feel of the flat, smooth plane of her belly. She watched the musculature of his shoulders flex with the movement and she followed the length of his body, appreciating the sculpt of his chest and abdomen.

Chris tugged insistently at the sleeve of the shirt and she extended her arms over her head, allowing him to pull the fabric away from her body. She laid bare beneath him, the two of them greedily drinking in the sight of one another in the pale yellow light of the bedside lamp. Her fingers danced along the ridges of his abs and he tucked her dark hair behind her ear as he lowered himself against her.

With one arm pressed to the mattress, he steadied himself above her to keep from oppressing her with his weight. He trailed his lips along the shell of her ear as he slipped his fingers between her thighs, beckoning her to part them. She fulfilled his unspoken request and he brushed his fingers against her slit with light, teasing strokes.

Jill gasped at the feeling, hips lifting just slightly on their own accord. He pressed a kiss to where her jaw met her neck as he slipped a single finger inside of her, eliciting a muted whimper that she failed to swallow. A low, guttural sound rumbled in his throat and he began to work her with long, powerful thrusts of his wrist.

He reveled in the feel of her - her hot, tight heat and the slickness that dribbled down his hand and wrist. She met his motions with a steady rock of her hips and he gently nipped at her neck in appreciation. He slid a second finger into her and adjusted his angle, letting his thumb lazily circle her nub as he thrust in and out of her.

She gripped his wrist tightly, shaking her head as she bit back a moan and pulled herself away from his hand. Jill was close to coming undone and she bucked her hips particularly hard to grind herself against him. He was impossibly hard and she bit her lip to suppress a whimper as she felt it skim over her mound.

Jill took him with a careful hand and brushed the pad of her thumb over the aching head of his cock, smearing the precum that had begun to bead at his tip across his skin. He groaned at the feel and she gave him a couple of quick, torturous pumps with her fist before lifting her hips and rubbing his head against her entrance.

Chris clenched his eyes shut at the feel of her slick heat. Unable to resist, he pushed his hips forward just far enough to ease his head inside of her and he shivered at the moan that tore from her lips. He entered her slowly, focusing on the feel of her tightening around him with each inch that she took. Once he was finally buried in her, he took hold of her hips and gave one experimental thrust. He watched her take fistfuls of the sheets as her lips parted to let out a gasp.

_Fuck,_  he loved her.

Leaning forward, he slid an arm beneath her shoulder blades and lifted her from the mattress just slightly. He buried his face in the side of her neck and began to move, driving in and out of her with strong, lingering thrusts. She locked her legs around him, removing the faintest bit of distance between them, and met each forward stroke of his hips with an upward thrust of her own.

He lost himself in her, reduced to a series of graceless thrusts and murmurs against her neck as he felt his release building. Chris pulled her against him more firmly as he began to drive into her, desperate to feel her spasm around him. He snaked a hand between where they were joined and began to stroke her, causing her to curse under her breath. Her hips knocked against his as they rammed forward and he  _knew._

She came around him, gripping him like a vise as she arched her back off the bed. He swiftly met his own release and let out a hiss as he pumped into her, lost in the sensation of his own orgasm. She collapsed against the mattress, limp and spent, and he soon slid out of her to fall beside her.

Collecting her in his arms, he pulled her against his sweat-slicked chest. She rested her head against his shoulder and idly played with the light down of hair on his chest.

"Chris?" She whispered after a moment of silence and he tiredly hummed in acknowledgement.

"Do you…"

She paused.

"Can we ever be okay again?"

His breath hitched in his throat and he froze, the comforting caress of his hand along her back coming to a halt. Just as quickly as he had faltered, he resumed his half-hearted massage.

"I don't know."

That night, he dreamt of Raccoon City - the rain, the low groans of the dead, the metallic tang of blood in his mouth…and a pair of familiar, clouded over blue eyes accompanied by the cold press of gunmetal against his temple. When he subsequently startled himself awake, Chris was compelled to brush Jill's errant hair away from her face to study her image and was relieved to find that her flesh had not rotted away to reveal the ghastly sight of yellowed bone.

He could only hope to be greeted with a similar sight in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay, so here's some smut as an apology? I'm not sure why I struggled so much with this chapter...must be the lack of zombie gore. Anyway, thanks to Xaori as always for pep talking me through this and making sure it's acceptable for your viewing pleasure because I couldn't force myself to proofread it.
> 
> forfun100 started a new fic that's a Pride and Prejudice/Resident Evil crossover. If you're a fan of AUs, sexual Valenfield tension, and silly banter, you should check it out. :)


	20. Revelations

Jill knew her circadian rhythm was royally fucked from the moment she opened her eyes. She woke with a start, eyelids suddenly snapping open to observe the darkness of the bedroom. The stillness in the air suggested early hours of morning and, when she turned to face the clock on the bedside table, she confirmed that it was half past one. Groaning, she fell onto her back and extended her arm at her side, finding the sheets beside her cold and empty.

Hadn't she fallen asleep with Chris?

She jolted upright and fumbled in the top drawer of the nightstand, but was met with disturbingly empty air. The handgun she typically kept at her bedside was missing and it sent her into a state of near panic. Blood rushed in her ears and her heart began to slam against the wall of her chest as she slowly draped her legs over the side of the mattress to sit upright. Reflexively taking fistfuls of the fitted sheet below, she strained to make out a sound in the silence of the night.

In the distance, she could hear a faint clicking. Sweat began to bead at the nape of her neck as she recalled the creature they had encountered near the west stairwell at the station, the blind one with claws that came straight from her nightmares. Jill clenched her eyes closed as she tightened her hold on the sheets and shook her head, dispelling the image from her mind. She was no longer a captive of Raccoon City but was instead safe in Chris's childhood home.

The clicking persisted and the sound of it made her skin crawl. Grumbling softly to herself, she quickly raked her fingers through her disheveled hair and forced herself to rise from the bed. The hem of the shirt Chris had lent her fell mid-thigh and she gave it a quick tug, hoping the stretch of the fabric would grant her more modesty before stepping out to investigate.

Darkness veiled the hallway in a thick blanket and she paused outside of the bedroom, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the back of her fists in an attempt to force them to adjust. The clicking came louder, intermittently pausing before resuming, and she frowned hard. Rationally, she knew it  _wasn't_  one of those creatures, but her body wasn't so convinced. It continued to operate in fight-or-flight, heart hammering away and hairs standing on end.

The staircase was illuminated with a dull flicker of cool light that came from within the living room. Jill moved carefully down the stairs with a light step, one hand hovering above the banister as she did so. She ducked down low, rounding the corner to find Chris hunched over a desk positioned in the corner of the room, squinting at the brightness of the computer monitor positioned atop of it. With a sigh, she pressed a hand to her chest, willing her heart to slow as she rose to stand, relieved that the clicking was in fact the tapping at a keyboard.

"Hey." She whispered, causing him to nearly leap out of his skin in surprise. Chris turned to face her and smiled brightly at the sight of her.

"Hey." He responded, voice husky from disuse. "Barry sent an email."

She moved to stand behind him, placing one hand against his shoulder for leverage as she leaned in to peer at the words on the screen. Chris reached up to grasp her hand and rolled back in his chair, causing her to stumble. He caught her by the waist and gracefully pulled her into his lap, positioning her on one knee as she glared at him.

"Just let me have this." He pleaded, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her close. "I just survived the damn zombie apocalypse."

She relaxed against his body and allowed him to pull her back flush against his chest. With his arm still looped around her waist, she straddled his thigh and skimmed over the words on the screen.

"He found a lead?" She asked as she read through the contents of the message.

"Yeah," Chris answered before she managed to finish reading, "Rebecca is coming back to brief us in the flesh because he doesn't feel that any other way is safe. We'll pick her up from the airport in three days."

Jill nodded, but the information inspired a new sense of unease. The Umbrella conspiracy clearly ran deeper than just the involvement of Raccoon City Police. If Barry was afraid to leak information via the internet, did that mean he suspected links between Umbrella and a higher power? Feds? Government agencies?

"I think we're in over our head." Jill admitted, shaking her head as she spoke.

Chris turned to press a kiss to the side of her face, lips still pressed against her skin as he said, "We definitely are."

He pulled away from the desk and gave the loose fabric of her shirt an insistent tug, persuading her to turn to face him. She remained in his lap with his body positioned between her thighs as she settled back onto his legs. Chris smiled, cupping her face in his hands and tilting his face upwards to give her a quick, chaste kiss.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to." He said in earnest while trailing the pad of his thumb along the line of her jaw. "Umbrella has burned me in ways that I can't move past. I can't  _not_  take it personally. They've destroyed everything—my job, my home, my friends, my community—and I refuse to lie down and take it like a beaten dog."

He cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing.

"I...all I have left is you and Claire, Jill. Umbrella has touched you both and left something permanent behind. I want revenge. I want...fuck, I don't know what I want, but I want  _someone_  to fucking pay for it."

"Umbrella destroyed my life too," Jill said softly, "I don't have anything to do  _but_  this."

She cupped his face in her hands this time, noting the way his rough stubble tickled the sensitive flesh of her palms. Jill kept his face angled towards her as she looked down at him in the blue glow of the computer screen. His eyes were dark as they met hers, his mouth set in a stern frown as his eyebrows creased with thought.

"I'm doing this with you, Chris." Jill concluded. "Partners until the end, right?"

He responded by kissing her hungrily with a needy, insistent press of his lips. Chris placed a palm to her lower back, shifting her so that she sat flush against him while his other hand cradled the back of her head. She felt him hardening against her and she settled her weight against him, rocking her hips forward just once to elicit a groan from him. Chris pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers as his ragged breaths ghosted over her swollen lips.

"Jill Valentine, you'll be the death of me someday." He grunted, eyes briefly rolling back in his head as she rolled her hips once again.

"Beats being eaten by zombies." She mumbled, her words dissolving into a sharp gasp as his hands slid beneath her shirt.

He trailed them along her sides slowly, appreciating the flare of her hips before rising to her ribs. One of his thumbs brushed over her stiffened nipple and she bit her lower lip to hold in the whimper that surfaced in her throat. Chris smirked, kissing her once again as he rolled her opposite nipple between his fingers and felt her buck against his hips. It was enough persuasion for him and he fumbled with the front of his sweatpants, freeing himself.

Jill lowered herself onto him slowly, eyes fluttering closed as she tightly gripped his shoulders to keep herself grounded as he stretched her. She sunk down on him at an agonizingly slow pace, but she took him in his entirety, only stopping once he was fully sheathed within her. He groaned at the sensation, burying his face in her neck as she flexed around him. She moved, rocking her hips forward at a careful, steady pace. Chris hissed at the feeling and leaned back in the chair to watch her. With her hands braced against his chest, she hovered over him, her lips just barely out of reach as she rose along his length.

And then she dropped back down, taking him into her slick, hot heat with ease. Chris's breath hitched in his throat as she began to ride him, bobbing on his shaft. Her hands migrated to his shoulders and her breathing began to accelerate as she worked him, breasts bouncing beneath the thin cotton of her shirt with her ministrations.

"Fuck." He managed to grit out, bracing his hands against the full curve of her ass.

Jill kissed him, all tongue, teeth, and desperation as she never once slowed her pace. He felt that familiar heat between his thighs, a rope in his mind pulling taut and threatening to snap at any moment. His fingers curled into the flesh of her ass and she knew. Instead of easing up, she increased her pace, and Chris's hips jerked upward as he came.

He hugged her against him as he came down from his orgasm, resting his cheek against the soft pillow of her breasts. Jill ran her fingers through his sweat-dampened hair as he slowly became more reoriented to reality. Pulling away, he looked up at her and kissed her once again.

"We should try to sleep again." Jill suggested as she raked her fingers through her hair, pulling it away from her face.

His eyelids were already growing heavy in his post-coital bliss and Chris nodded his head, scooping her up in his arms despite her protests as he carried her back to bed.

* * *

The wind whipped through her hair as they made their way down the desolate highway. Chris lazily draped one arm out the open window as he drove, dark eyes fixed on the empty asphalt in front of them. Jill tucked her hair behind her ear and observed the rural scenery, taking in the canvas of color that autumn had brought in.

"I can't believe we're going back." She confessed, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I have to know." Chris insisted. "I don't know, I just have this strange feeling…"

Jill snuggled deeper into the warmth of her coat and sighed. Returning to Raccoon City was the last thing she wanted to do, but Chris had tossed and turned all night, haunted by a hunch that something was amiss. She couldn't let him go alone and, if nothing else, the weight of the fully loaded Beretta that rested against her thigh offered her some comfort.

As they closed in on the city, Jill caught sight of smoke that rose above the wood line in the distance. The sky transitioned from a deep, boundless blue to a chalky grey that caused her heart to sink in her chest. That ominous smoke suggested that Chris was right—something beyond zombies  _was_  amiss and she wasn't sure what to make of it.

Chris squinted and leaned closer to the steering wheel as he made out a figure that staggered into the road. It clumsily ambled about with a gait that couldn't be mistaken for anything  _but_  a zombie and Jill instinctively gripped the cold metal of her handgun.

"The bastard must have walked for miles." Chris hissed, bringing the car to a slow stop.

Jill leaned out the open window to observe it. The creature pivoted on a foot, turning slowly towards her as it groaned. Its head hung limp at an odd angle, suggesting a broken neck, and Jill grimaced at the realization that it must have once been a teenage girl. Still wearing an oversized band t-shirt and one dingy Chuck Taylor, it reached out with black-lacquered nails.

The thud of its body against the pavement seemed louder than the gunshot and she ducked back into the cabin of the car, her hand trembling slightly around the end of her gun. Chris reached over to rest a palm atop it and they continued towards the city in silence.

Chris had been right. Jill could barely believe her eyes as the edge of the city came into view. Partial structures remained, but the majority of what she could see had been reduced to nothing but rubble. She quickly exited the car, stumbling slightly in shock as she stepped towards the wreckage. Ash fell from the sky, fluttering about like the first signs of snow and depositing itself in her hair.

Raccoon City was no more.

"Fuck…" Chris murmured, pulling his handgun from its holster as he moved closer.

Nearby, the remnants of Raccoon Pharmacy continued to burn, crackling and popping as the flame slowly withered. Jill walked around the perimeter of the fire and spotted a greyed, gored hand peeking out from beneath stone, wildly flailing about in an attempt to catch hold of something.

"I think Barry's right." She lamented, shielding her eyes from the falling ash as she looked upwards at the smoke that rose in the air. "I seriously doubt Umbrella is capable of single-handedly wiping an entire city from existence."

Chris let out an anguished sound as he roughly kicked a piece of wreckage down the length of the street.

"A city gets nuked and no one says shit?" He asked, voice cracking. "Nothing on the news, not a single word on the radio…"

"Barry was right." Jill whispered. "There's a conspiracy."

The sudden sense of responsibility that fell onto her shoulders nearly crushed her. If they didn't pursue Umbrella, then who would?

"We'll stop them, Chris," she surprised herself with the confidence of her tone, "We  _have_  to."

* * *

Chris was fuming as he stomped back into the house and Jill gave him a wide berth. She remained quiet as he paced back and forth in the living room, allowing him to sort through his thoughts as she plopped onto the couch and flipped through the local news channels in search of even the slightest reference to the destruction of Raccoon City.

"How the hell can something like this happen?" He asked. "How can anyone support this shit?"

"Money, probably." Jill countered, shrugging her shoulders. "It always boils down to money, doesn't it?"

The stampede of footsteps on the front porch interrupted their deliberation and the group was reunited once again. Claire grinned as she stepped into the living room, waving hello as Leon, Kevin, and Sherry followed her into the room. The warm reunion was quickly destroyed as Chris spoke up first.

"We went back to Raccoon." He curtly revealed and Claire's eyes widened in both shock and horror.

"What the fuck, Chris?" She asked, the pitch in her voice elevated on account of her anger. "Why the fuck would you do that?"

Leon nudged her in the side and pointed towards Sherry who rolled her eyes and muttered, "I've heard it before."

"Sorry," Claire offered lamely, "But  _seriously_ , Chris?"

"Yeah, well, I had this bad feeling and, as it turns out, I was right." He explained, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "There is no Raccoon City anymore. It's been nuked."

"So Umbrella has nukes and the recipe for the zombie outbreak?" Kevin let out a humorless laugh.

"I don't think so," Chris responded, "Barry hinted at a conspiracy in his email and I think he's right."

"Umbrella might be supported by an entity much larger than Raccoon City Police." Jill continued. "Rebecca returns from Europe tomorrow to fill us in on what she and Barry discovered."

Claire moved to sit beside Jill and rested her elbows on her knees, burying her face in her hands as she muffledly spoke, "This is all starting to feel like a really shitty movie."

Leon, who looked like an entirely different person after a shower and the return of color to his skin, sat beside her and stared pensively at the carpet before asking the question they all dreaded to hear, "So, what happens next?"

Only time would tell.

* * *

"The base was infested with zombies by the time we arrived." Rebecca began, her hands tightly wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee. The group sat at the kitchen table and listened intently to her recollection of events.

"If the facility workers hadn't been turned, they were already dead. Someone had come before us and wiped out a ton of scientists," she stared into the darkness of her coffee and sighed, "To make a long story short, we found out who and why."

They all stared expectantly in anticipation of the revelation.

"We found references to H.C.F., which turned out to be an acronym for the Hive/Host Capture Force. It's not Umbrella...it's…" Rebecca laughed bitterly. "It's a different group. There's more than just Umbrella out there. They raided the Umbrella base to  _steal_  their viruses."

The air in the room became thin and Jill took in a loud, deep breath as though she struggled to breathe. She looked over at Chris to find him staring hard at the surface of the table, his arms crossed over his chest as he mulled over what Rebecca had said.

"What do they want the viruses  _for_?" Claire spoke first. "Maybe it's not all bad."

Rebecca smiled solemnly and shook her head, "I think it's a rival agency. I think the H.C.F. and Umbrella are at war with one another."

"So there are two crazy cults trying to turn the world into zombies?" Kevin snorted, "Well, fuck me."

"So," Leon coughed, "I guess H.C.F. got their hands on the t-virus?"

"That's a good question." Rebecca nodded as she paused, organizing her thoughts. "There was no record of the T-virus being contained at this facility, so how did the outbreak occur?"

"If the T-virus wasn't there, what were they looking for?" Jill asked, her question prompting a hum of agreement from Chris.

"Maybe they didn't know it wasn't there." Rebecca shrugged. "Or…"

"Or there's another virus."

The attention moved to Leon as he spoke.

"We know about the G-virus." Chris reminded him. "Maybe that's what they wanted."

"I don't think so." Sherry piped in, earning quizzical looks. "Someone already took the G-virus from my dad. That's...why he infected himself. My mom said he got shot."

The room fell into stunned silence and Claire sighed, "Sherry's dad was a scientist named William Birkin. He…"

"Developed the G-virus." Chris angrily spat. He regarded Sherry with a skeptical look, but kept his thoughts to himself, instead saying, "Alright, so maybe H.C.F. already has the G-virus. They made a mistake."

"Or they already had the T-virus and are responsible for the outbreak at the facility." Jill rationalized.

Rebecca's eyes lit up and she pointed at Jill with excitement.

"Exactly! That's what I think, too!" Her expression quickly fell. "But...there's another virus."

"You're kidding me, right?" Kevin huffed. "Guys, I think this is way over our heads."

Chris and Jill shared a knowing look with one another and he failed to suppress the slight smirk that surfaced on his face.

"And that's what Barry wants me to tell you about." Rebecca stared directly at Chris and turned towards Jill, allowing her gaze to wander freely between the two. "He thinks he knows where it is."

Jill froze and Chris leaned in closer, resting his elbows on the table.

"Just tell us when and where."

Rebecca grimaced.

"Four days. Antarctica."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heard Antarctica is nicer in October than it is in December. Let's just roll with it, alright?


	21. The Living Dead

Chris didn't consider himself to be a pessimist—he was a  _realist._  Throughout the duration of his life, Chris had endured plenty of poor scenarios that acclimated him to what he perceived to be the reality of the world. There was no such thing as karma, good guys finished wherever they fucking placed, and no one deserved a damn thing. As far as Chris was concerned, glass damn empty and shattered all over the floor was the best way to live life; that way, you'd always be pleasantly surprised when shit didn't hit the fan.

This was why he went into Antarctica expecting the worst. Chris expected to die on this mission and that hunch didn't let up once they met up with Barry's first contact in Chile. He anticipated that it would be sketchy because of Barry's paranoia leading to arrangements being made off the radar, but he didn't think it'd be  _this_  precarious. After repeatedly being handed off from one independent pilot to another between countries, Chris was ready to lose his mind.

It was cold as  _fuck_  in Antarctica. No shit. Chris blew into his gloved hands in order to capture his own breath and create warmth for his half-frozen face as he watched their current pilot assess the plane. The man swiftly walked around the perimeter of the Cessna with a scrutinizing eye and Chris briefly wondered how much flight experience the guy had. Regardless, the worst case scenario remained the same: he died.

The man motioned for them to board and Chris listened intently as he verbally ran through all his check-offs. Chris was no professional pilot by any means, but his air force experience accounted for something. He knew enough to know if something was wrong.

Chris knew something was wrong about thirty minutes in and 10,000 feet above land. Jill knew something was wrong when he started barking orders.

"Motherfucking engine failure." He hissed. "Let up on the throttle, dammit!"

Jill couldn't be sure what was happening. Her pulse was rapid and the sound of her own beating heart washed out the noise around her. Engine failure sounded pretty severe. Was this how she was destined to die?

"Shit!" Chris slammed his fist against the metal siding and looked back at Jill.

"Jill," his entire demeanor shifted as he took on a softer tone, "We lost power and have to emergency land. It's not going to be comfortable. Make sure you're strapped in well, alright?"

She sensed the trepidation in his voice and did as she was told. Though her sympathetic nervous system had certainly kicked in to stimulate the racing of her heart and the sweat that beaded on her forehead, Jill found herself to be strangely calm. Her mind was still as she looked out the window ahead to watch the sun lazily sink below the horizon.

Soon came the worst turbulence she had ever encountered. The plane rapidly descended from the air and collided roughly against the ground, rattling and shaking her to her core. They quickly began to lose speed as they skid across the bumpy terrain and Chris let out a grunt as they became airborne once again from clearing a small hill. The plane lurched forward, angled nose down, and landed on a nosewheel. Unable to withstand the weight, it promptly snapped off and caused the plane to ricochet.

Chris didn't realize the plane had flipped upside down until it landed. With a loud smash of glass and creak of metal, the plane was grounded once again and made a small amount of distance before coming to a halt. He groaned as he fumbled for his belt, releasing himself from the restraint and landing unceremoniously against the glass and earth.

The world around them was silent despite the catastrophe. As he lay on the cold ground with his eyes closed, he listened to the whip of the wind nearby. Was Jill alright? He wanted to move, but his body betrayed him. With a generous amount of effort, he managed to open his eyes and stare up at the seats above him where the pilot dangled in his restraints, likely dead.

"Jill."

He turned his head to the side and felt a sharp pain radiate through his left shoulder. Chris grunted and attempted to lift himself from the ground by supporting himself on his elbows, but failed as a result of the ache in his shoulder. Had he broken something? Fucking probably.

"Jill!"

Why wasn't she answering?

"Yeah."

Her voice was quiet and breathy. He knew something was amiss.

"Are you okay?"

Chris flipped himself prone and began the arduous task of dragging himself out from beneath the wreckage with his right arm. The shattered glass beneath him pierced his skin even through his gloves and he winced as his shoulder was dragged against the ground. After a few, long, arduous pulls, he managed to escape from beneath the wreckage. Jill was sitting in the snow, knees bent as she braced an arm against her abdomen. He struggled to stand, moving on shaky legs as he approached her.

Jill's breathing was shallow and rapid as she clutched a hand to her side. Chris lowered himself to his knees in front of her and assessed the damage. Shards of glass glittered in her hair and she had sustained an abrasion along the side of her face. He continued to evaluate her, his gaze finally coming to rest on the blood that saturated the front of her padded jacket. Aware of his stare, Jill pulled her hand away to reveal a piece of scrap metal that jut out from her side.

"Fuck, Jill…" He choked on his own words, cringing at the throbbing heat between his neck and shoulder.

When she looked up at him, her expression was surprisingly apathetic. Jill kept a hand wrapped around the metal, stabilizing it as she braced herself against the plane to move to standing. He watched her briefly grit her teeth as she wobbled on her feet, keeping a palm against the plane to keep from falling.

"It'll be alright," she mumbled, "It just has to stay in."

She had no idea if it'd be alright. Somehow, Jill doubted that her words did anything to soothe Chris. She let out a shaky sigh as she continued to press at the area around the object, doing her best to stem the bleeding. If she could stop the bleeding and stabilize it, she'd make it. Worst case scenario, she bled out.

Jill decided she hated Antarctica.

The wind was biting and the sun would soon retreat, leaving them stranded in the dark with nothing but the moonlight to guide them. For as far as she could see, there was nothing but frozen earth and ice. There were no signs of civilization or ways to call for help. More than likely, they'd die of hypothermia. Was that truly how their legacy was meant to end? Survive Raccoon City just to die of the cold?

"Come on." Chris nodded his head in the direction they were originally headed. "Let's grab our bags and go before it gets too dark."

Jill ignored her chest pain and nodded.

"I'll get them." She pointed to his shoulder. "I'll be faster."

"Jill, no," Chris adamantly opposed, "You're already hurt. What if you bleed out?"

She smiled.

"We don't have much left to lose, Chris. If I bleed, I bleed. It'll be alright."

Watching her crawl beneath that pathetic hunk of metal was physically painful, but she was  _Jill,_  and mediocrity was never an option for her. She slithered out from the wreckage with a soft whimper as she tossed their bags into the snow before extricating herself from the remains of the plane.

They walked for what felt like ages. Chris wasn't sure if he was simply getting used to the throbbing in his shoulder or if the cold had effectively numbed his nerve endings, but he didn't care much either way. He watched Jill from the corner of his eye, having mentally measured the bloodstain on her jacket for comparison's sake.

Not that he'd be able to do much of anything if it got worse anyway.

"That must be it." Jill suddenly spoke, flitting the beam of her flashlight into the distance and off to the right.

Chris squinted hard to make out the structure in the distance. He couldn't see jack shit in the dark, but it was some sort of building, meaning shelter and perhaps a way to contact civilization. It was enough for him and he rerouted his path in its direction.

"Looks like a fucking shipping container." He mumbled as they drew closer.

The dark, metallic building was rectangular in nature and stood out against the pure white snow. Chris's imagination ran wild with the possibilities of what was contained within. A pack of Hunters? A nice, warm bed and a phone to call emergency services? Nothing at all? A pair of frozen corpses that belonged to another sad, sorry pair who crash landed in the middle of nowhere?

Even in his wildest dreams, he never would have expected what they found.

" _Katie_?"

Chris was certain that the universe was playing a cruel trick on him. Fucking Carlos? Out of all the people in the  _world_  who could have been waiting for them, it had to be Carlos?

"Carlos?" Jill spoke up. "You're Barry Burton's…"

"That's right,  _cariño_ ," he smugly smirked, "I'm a sexy double agent now."

Chris wondered what the odds of getting away with homicide in the Antarctic were. Before either of them could figure out what to say, Carlos let out a loud, dramatic gasp.

"What the hell happened to  _you_?" He asked, gesturing towards Jill's wound.

"Well," Chris gestured in some insignificant direction behind him with a thrust of his thumb, "Barry's  _other_  sketchy contact fucked us over."

He glared at Carlos to emphasize his point, perhaps warning him to keep himself in check.

"She has a piece of  _metal_  sticking out of her!" Carlos couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from it. "What the hell happened?"

"It doesn't matter what happened," Chris quickly answered, "Are you a fucking doctor? No? Great, shut the fuck up."

Jill smiled weakly in an attempt to alleviate the hostility between the two men.

"It'll be alright, Carlos." She spoke with enough conviction to almost persuade herself. "I'm glad to see you survived Raccoon."

Carlos was silent for a moment before letting out an incredulous laugh.

"Sorry, I can't get past the fact that you're  _talking_  with a piece of  _metal_  sticking out of you like it's no big deal."

Jill let out a quiet sigh. She was  _very_  aware of the fact that she was impaled with a piece of plane and it certainly was a big deal. The burning pain in her flank was manageable so long as she kept herself distracted. As long as she kept her mind off of it, she'd be alright.

"I just want to get this over with." She finally said, the weakness of her voice making her exhaustion known.

Carlos's jaw dropped.

"You want to do this?" He asked. "You want to go sneak into an Umbrella facility with a hunk of metal sticking out of you and  _not_  go to a hospital?"

Jill nodded, "Yes, I came here for a reason and I'd like to see it through."

Damn, Chris loved this woman and her unshakeable resolve. Were he in her shoes, he absolutely would have gotten the fuck out of there and let Umbrella carry on with their top secret science experiment.

" _Mierda_ ," Carlos hissed under his breath, "You are one hell of a woman, Jill."

Chris was positive that he could get away with murder in the middle of the Antarctic.

* * *

Umbrella's Antarctic base was just as nondescript as Jill could have imagined. There was no indication of what the campus was on the outside, only towering walls of dark stone and the occasional window. Being the midst of night, there were no lights or signs of life apparent from the outside and Jill wasn't sure if she should feel relief or dread.

"Well, well," Chris spoke as he observed the seemingly unoccupied building, "Looks like we don't need you after all."

He regarded Carlos with a judgmental eye before forcing a cynical smile as he said, "Thanks for attempting to be useful though."

Carlos narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared Chris down.

"In case you forgot, Jill has a piece of fuckin'  _metal_  sticking out of her," he gestured towards her animatedly, "I think she could use all the help she can get."

Though she remained silent, Jill took slight offense to the comment. The contention between Chris and Carlos was becoming burdensome, interfering with both the mission and her mood. Chris's typically short fuse was further cropped by Carlos's seemingly intentional teasing and she wasn't entirely sure that she had the strength to restrain him when he ultimately snapped.

"Can we just  _go_?" She asked tersely, exasperated.

Jill had tuned out their bickering and the two men froze at the sound of her voice. Chris's glare, heated and formerly directed at Carlos, quickly softened and Carlos appeared to be ashamed of himself.

"Sure." Chris spoke with an uncharacteristically subdued edge to his words. He was worried about her.

The lobby was everything she expected—frigid, dark, and plain. She felt a sense of unease. The blue light of their flashlights somehow made everything seem just a  _tad_  creepier and she half-expected that the Arklay axe murderer would pop out from behind a piece of furniture at any moment.

Her breath was visible in front of her face, forming a small clouds as it crystallized in the frosty air. She watched Carlos approach the reception desk nearby and begin to utilize the desktop computer while Chris continued down the hallway ahead, handgun drawn as he secured the area. He rounded the corner, disappearing from her line of sight, and she slowly began to meander after him.

"Shit!"

She broke into a sprint at the sound of his voice, the burning pain in her side be damned. The heavy footfalls behind her revealed that Carlos had taken after her in pursuit of Chris and she kept one hand braced against that damn metal as the other came to rest on the handgun holstered to her thigh.

Jill came to an abrupt stop as she turned the corner and nearly collided into Chris's back. He stood in the entryway of the adjoining room, his wide figure obscuring her view. She sighed with relief at the sight of his safety, but as she slid through the space beside him to advance, she found herself stunned.

Someone had been there before them. The adjacent wall was riddled with bullet holes, the spray and sheer number of them suggestive of an assault rifle. Dozens of bodies were strewn throughout the room, gunned down and left to marinate in their own gore. For the first time during the trip, Jill was grateful for the subzero temperature and its ability to mask the stench of decay.

Carlos kneeled beside the corpse of a woman and observed it thoughtfully.

"These were Umbrella employees," he confirmed, surprised by the finding, "Why would Umbrella kill its own?"

"To hide something." Chris suggested. "They've clearly shown that they have no regard for human life."

Jill wasn't as easily convinced.

"Maybe it wasn't Umbrella." She proposed. "Remember what Rebecca said?"

Chris's eyebrows shot upwards and he turned to stare out at the sea of bodies as he muttered, "H.C.F."

Carlos gave them both a quizzical look.

"Some rival company," Chris quickly answered, "More psychopaths who want viruses to end the world or whatever the fuck Umbrella is trying to do."

Carlos let out a nervous laugh, "You're kidding, right?"

Jill shook her head.

"This is a lot bigger than anyone realizes," she murmured, "We're biting off more than we can chew and bound to choke at any moment."

The comment made a shiver run down his spine. Chris looked over at Jill and the defeated expression on her face. His attention moved to Carlos and the men exchanged a similar look of frustration with one another. Despite their desire to reassure her, neither found that they could deny what Jill had said. Play with fire and you're bound to get burnt.

There was little of interest—more corpses, blood, a bunch of documents about shit Chris knew nothing about. He was beginning to suspect that this entire trip had been nothing more than a grandiose failure on their part. The entire fight against Umbrella suddenly seemed fruitless as a result of the suspicion that a rival agency existed.

"Wait a second," he heard Jill say, voice elevated with a sense of excitement, "Go back."

Jill and Carlos were hovered over a nearby computer and Chris moved to stand behind them. The grainy, blue-tinted video that played on the screen presumably came from a security camera and Chris crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for Carlos to rewind through the footage.

The recording captured much of what was suspected—armed men in black opening fire on the room of scientists. Once the room had been disposed of, the men stepped out of the camera's field of view. For nearly two minutes, absolutely nothing occurred on the video. Chris was about to speak, but a hint of movement in the lower right corner silenced him.

A figure appeared from off the screen, clad in black with their face angled downwards and away from the camera's view. The man was hunched over, roughly dragging a woman across the floor by her light-colored hair, and Chris assumed she was dead until she suddenly began to flail about. She made a swing for the man's legs, but couldn't quite reach, and he reached down to force her into a kneeled position.

When the man turned his face upwards to smirk at the camera, Chris felt the bottom of his stomach fall out. He knew that fucking face, that fucking smirk, those fucking mocking  _shades._

"Wesker." Jill whispered as he shot the woman in the back of the skull, "Is...alive?"

The woman fell over, limp on the ground, and Wesker held up a vial, waving it back and forth in a taunting way before exiting the room.

"Fuck!" Chris slammed his fist down on the desk. "How?  _How_  is he alive?"

"I don't know."

In truth, Jill had a hunch, but she didn't dare say it aloud. If Wesker was involved in the manufacturing of viruses, who was to say he wasn't sampling his own product? The fact that he survived being bitch-slapped across the lab by a Tyrant and survived was unbelievable.

"I'm ready to go home," Jill suddenly said, cringing at the mention of 'home' and Raccoon City's destruction before adding, "Wherever that is."


End file.
